Return of Darkness
by en-lumine
Summary: The Monstrum haunts the streets once more. The Nephilim gain power. A battle that will either eradicate the evil forever, or would mark the beginning of the end of time. All foretold, a millennia ago...  Racing to undo the damage, Lara and Kurtis are caught unawares when a single dangerous fighter steps in. Her allegiance, her motives a mystery..  Rewrite. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Hiya folks =)**

**After playing AOD after the longest time, I decided to re-write this old (but favourite) fic of mine. 7 years ago, the plot for this story had occupied my mind and not left me until I gave proper form to it. Now, after evolving a bit as a writer, I believe its time I do a little justice to this fic and make it as good as I can. I hope you all like it - Please read and review - it truly helps us in going on =)  
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**Disclaimer****: I do not own Lara, Kurtis, Karel, Gunderson and all the actors appearing in AOD. They are property of Core Design, Eidos Interactive, Square Enix and Crystal Dynamics. I am making no profit from this story, whatsoever. I do own the plot, and a few characters who'd be introduced.**

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><p><strong>RETURN OF DARKNESS<strong>

**Lara Croft Tomb Raider**

**Prologue**

They say what does not kill you, makes you stronger. More prepared for everything life throws at you; whether they are obstacles or opportunities. In Lara Croft's case, it had been literally spears, boomerangs and bullets. All mere props, not unusual occurrences considering the path she had chosen for herself. And then, death itself appeared before her, in the form of cloak-like darkness, shrouding the last ray of day and von Croy's silhouette. Shaking the very foundations of her existence to the core, leaving her starving, broken, on the brink of insanity. But even that did not suffice, for her wounds healed on the outside, as she continued to nurse her injured soul. Scars left by Egypt were reminders of her pain, but then again, Lara harbored a lot of scars.

She placed the glowing Sanglyph onto the foot of the Sleeper, and the deep rumbling from the mechanism above provided her the warning clearly. Looking about, she saw a cable and quickly made grab for it. Swinging and landing hard on her knees, Lara wasted no time and broke into a sprint in a bid to reach the exit – all the while with Karel screaming and beams of brilliant light shooting from the Sleeper. And just as she dived into the opening, the deep rumbling gave way to a terrifying explosion as blinding light surrounded her. With the earth still shaky from the blast, she paused at the door, holding the frame for support while cupping her side to assuage the pain arising due to her sprint. 'Another gift from Egypt,' she thought – but urgent thoughts quickly chased away old ghosts.

The arena, where Boaz had seemingly met her match. A pool of dark blood. A golden disk.

Picking up the weapon, she took a step back reflexively as it sprang to life. Glowing dangerously with its blades bared, it pointed her towards the area where the monster had initially emerged. A small smile framed Lara's features and after a long time, the glimmer of hope she felt had long extinguished within her, flickered as she walked towards the darkness – knowing she would not lose someone else now. Not again; not Kurtis.

**Reviews would be very much appreciated - and I promise cookies to all my reviewers! ^_^**


	2. Escape

**Whew - glad this one's over! :P **

**Firstly, a big huge THANK YOU to my reviewers! You guys make me go on! :)**

**nemesis: Thanks a lot! Hope you enjoy this! :)**

**LithiumSiege: Thank you! :)**

**gyikhu: Truly it is. Story-wise, AOD had the best plot in all Tomb Raider games. I wish they could have continued it :( Hope my continuation makes up a little for it though :)  
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**Angy1996 (who PMed me her review) - thank you so much girl! ^.^  
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**Now this chapter - I had to combine 2 chaps of the initial ROD to make this one. Already I've introduced a nameless character thus far - wonder what she's going to be like in the end... Hmmm :p Although her bit in this chapter seems pretty ambiguous, I promise more to her in future chappies! :)**

** Disclaimer: I do not own Lara, Kurtis, Karel, Gunderson and all the actors appearing in AOD. They are property of Core Design, Eidos Interactive, Square Enix and Crystal Dynamics. I am making no profit from this story, whatsoever. I do own the plot, and the characters I introduce.**

**Without any further ado...  
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><p><strong><span>RETURN OF DARKNESS<span>**

**Lara Croft Tomb Raider**

**Chapter 1** Escaping the Strahov

The cold wind cut daggers at her form, despite being covered head to toe in black leather. Racing along the deserted streets of Prague on her rented bike, she made her way towards the hub of all evil – her goal simple, her roaring rage powerful.

Once she saw the looming domes and arches of the Strahov, she pressed the accelerator further, hoping to cover the distance in between her and the building in the quickest time possible. Up front, the Strahov was just a massive, seemingly deserted warehouse on the edge of a long-forgotten industrial estate. Yet months of painstaking research and expensive information proved the structure could lead her to the one thing she craved the most.

Skidding sideways to a halt at the base of the building, she killed the engine and dismounted the bike. After re-adjusting her knap sack, she took in the grandeur of the gothic Strahov. Taking off her helmet, she stood in momentary awe at the massive arches and domes – her historical architecture lessons from long-gone university days coming back to her. But then, the moment passed, and with the promise of revenge, she muttered a solitary line, more to the cathedral-esque warehouse than to herself, holding a simple plastic card she had paid a small fortune to acquire.

"It all ends here."

No sooner than the words were spoken, the heavy silence of the night was replaced by a deep, ominous rumbling that enveloped the entire structure. The rumbling soon led to thunderous shaking of the ground. Fierce blinding light that illuminated the building, making the hollowed arches appear as long shadows – ghosts of all the monsters who had and would die for its illegal causes. Shielding herself from the light, she took one step forward, only to be thrown several meters back – as the heart of the Cabal exploded, leaving behind smoldering, black smoke.

Hitting her skull onto the lightpost with a loud clang, she fell into a heap – making fists of her hands in the snow as darkness blurred her vision.

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><p>Lighting a flare, Lara walked further into the dark hole – the late mutant Boaz's Lair. The green glow lit up the darkness for a bit – and it took all the strength she could muster to not retch at the sight.<p>

Human bodies clad in navy lay sprawled over – Boaz's fodder; with limbs and heads missing. The fetid smell of blood, rotting muscle and acid burned in her nose as she tried her best to breathe through her mouth.

"Damn it, Kurtis!" she muttered to herself. Glancing at the chirugai, she added softly: "Where _are_ you?"

As if in answer to that, the disk suddenly sprung to life, vibrating ferociously and glowing brighter as the seconds ticked by. Following its direction, Lara walked over the gory carcasses when the weapon slipped from her hand and sliced across to the corner of the lair.

The tomb raider broke into a fast run in a bid to catch the disk. A doorway was situated at the farthest end of the area, leading to metal walkways surrounding a steel tank suspended in the middle of the hallway – a containment area of sorts. Yet Lara was not focusing on the scenery, for at the end of the walkway was a human figure, sitting on the knees and holding the railing. The glaive began to encircle the crouched figure – and Lara's worst fears confirmed.

In the faint orange light of the room, her comrade and temporary partner was on the ground, clutching his abdomen and literally covered in sweat, blood and acid. With an effort, he managed to crane his neck and glance up at Lara – raw pain like that of a tortured animal flashing in his azure orbs. "L-Lara," he managed weakly.

"Y-yes its me, Kurtis" Lara provided quickly, recovering from the shock. Ever since she clapped her eyes on him in Paris, Lara had imagined Kurtis as the street-wise ace who never ran out of tricks to untangle himself from whatever problem he was facing. Always ahead of the game; always aware of the true scheme of things. Seeing him struggle to speak or even stand up broke the wall of indifference she had built to protect herself as her heart twisted in pain for him.

"You're hurt," she replied, crouching beside him – gently making him let go of the railing and turn toward her. Vitals unstable – she mentally concluded at his feverish skin and after checking an erratic pulse. She had seen a lot of wounds – surely this couldn't be _that_ worse.

"Sweet mother… Kurtis," she muttered, immediately fishing out health supplies from her backpack. There was, without any exaggeration, a hole in his gut. Apart from merely a few torn tissues obstructing her view, Lara could practically _see_ through Kurtis.

"That-God-damned-bug-face!" Kurtis spat bitterly.

"Boaz's doing, I gather?" Lara asked, trying to keep her voice strong and straightforward – Kurtis could use the strength emanating from her.

"Sure as hell," he groaned, grunting painfully as she cupped his wound to stop the bleeding. Warm blood began to seep through her tight-set fingers and she realized she needed to tie a tight bandage to prevent him from bleeding to death.

"You're gonna make it, Kurtis. Just ha-" he cut her off by grabbing her forearm and halting her actions. Lara looked into his eyes to see pained rage.

"Is he-gone? Did-you-?"

"Eckhardt's dead, Kurtis," she said in reply, and then went on to filling him on Karel's true nature and what happened at the lab – all the while with fingers moving expertly at peeling off his drenched shirt upto his torso and cleaning the wound. Kurtis merely nodded and grunted in reply, but Lara sensed that was enough to take his mind off his wound. "What about you? What did Boaz do to you? Any idea where we are?"

"This-place…" Kurtis drew in a sharp breath, and then exhaled slowly. He held up a hand before Lara could apologise for over-doing the spirit. "Part-of-containment area, kept-in the hag's-P-proto." Kurtis paused. "The one-you… let out." Lara was now taking out rolls of bandages. Leaning against the wall, he tried to breathe deeply.

Lara bit back a smile. "Go on."

He nodded. "After you left – I just shot the-freaking-acid-pumps on her b-body. T-Turns out the real deal's her-damned-pixie form – had sp-spears for arms… Sh-shot her in the-head, thinkin' I'd-got her," he paused before adding darkly: "Shoulda kn-known better than to t-turn back on an e-enemy."

Lara was almost done by the time he finished. "True," she said softly, gripping his waist. "C'mon Kurtis, up you get!" She said, pulling him up. He got up, shaky. "You've lost a fair amount of blood, and hell would freeze over before I let you die on me – Lets get you out of here and to a hospital…"

Dizziness broke out and hazed his vision. With one hand gripping the railing, the other Lara's shoulder, he somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other. Despite Lara's timely buck-ups, he felt darkness closing in on him.

When he slumped, Lara patted his face and cupped his chin and exclaimed, frustrated: "Kurtis – get up this instant! My watch isn't showing your death – come ON!" Yet with a horrified gasp, she realized his wound had started bleeding again.

With a low moan, he came about again, using his powers to strengthen his body – steady his vision, trembling with silent agony. "T-there," he said, pointing to a glassed area and an automatic door beside it. Once they reached to the area – a control room Lara figured – they saw more bodies strewn across the floor. Shaking her head, they entered an elevator, and made it to the ground floor of the loading bay. The crates and vehicles were ablaze with fire while most part of the bay had collapsed – with the wintry snow falling in from the dark skies above. The entire place was blood-red, and felt hot and burning. A computerized voice continued to announce the unlocking of all doors – and a warning to evacuate immediately.

"N-not very far," Kurtis whispered. Apparently he was familiar with this part of the loading bay. Leading Lara to a door on the far left of the area, they exited the Strahov and entered into a cold street. Shivering, Lara spotted Kurtis' bike parked a little way up front and at the same time, her comrade produced the keys to his beloved bike. They walked the distance, Kurtis gaining a little strength and once there, Lara unrolled her shorts so they became baggy army fatigues once more. Vaulting over, she revved up the engine as Kurtis climbed up behind her, put his head on her shoulder and panted from the exertion.

"Hang in there, Kurtis. We'll make it there," she replied, concerned yet determined.

And with that – they accelerated further into the cold street, unaware that they were being watched from another dark, leather-clad figure, crouched behind her bike.

"Lara Croft," the figure whispered to herself, nodding slowly. The supposed Monstrum on the loose, but she knew better than the authorities on this one. Once they were out of sight, she came out from the shadows – the tomb raider could have well taken care of the situation, but she wanted to room for any doubt. Using the same door, she zipped open her jacket and drew her weapon – going deep into the depths of the Strahov to find her answers.

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><p><strong>Please read and review! :)<strong>


	3. Reawakening

**I usually aim for weekly updates, sorry about this being 2 days overdue :3**

**Thank you all my reviewers for your wonderful support - **

**nemesis: God I'm a hopeless romantic too when it comes to LCxKT :D But I really, really want to develop their characters, let them speak to me, and perhaps then, we could see them falling in love soon - maybe? :D Thanks for your review! :)**

** gyikhu: Thank you for your review! :) and thanks for that - I was aiming at making the reader feel the atmosphere lol :D**

** Angy1996: She's going to be very useful to the plot, I assure you =D thanks for the review! :)**

** and LithiumSiege: Poor Kurtis.. Being stabbed by Boaz was the worst way any character could make an exit =( But its great that us writers on are keeping him alive via . Thanks a tonne for your review! =)**

** *hands out cookies for all* **

**And I'm also sorry if this chapter and the last one were a tad boring - I figured giving our heroes a chapter or two worth rest is important before they try and hit the action again :D**

**Here's the next chapter! :)**

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><p><strong>Lara Croft: Tomb Raider <strong>

**RETURN OF DARKNESS**

**Chapter 2: **Reawakening

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><p>The duo had reached the hospital in less than half an hour – and while unconscious Kurtis was immediately taken for surgery, Lara was left with a pile of paperwork and formalities to fulfill. She had had the sense to pack their weapons in her backpack before hand, and whilst preparing Kurtis for surgery, his belongings – keys, wallet and knapsack – were handed to her.<p>

Raiding through his belongings, Lara came across a lot of_ interesting_ things. Her blue-eyed companion's last name read Trent, as per his French passport and Foreign Legion ID. A tattered American passport referred to a teenage Kurtis as Heisstrum DeCombel. Lara nodded, remembering she saw a statue of DeCombel, a Lux Veritatis knight when solving the underwater puzzle in the Vault of Trophies.

His 3 credit cards were based on 3 different aliases and he just had 40 euros worth of cash on him. Alongside a list of handwritten names with the letters with the letters "Cr.'' scrawled and underlined. These were Kurtis' creditors - Clearly Mr. Trent was having a hard time making ends meet.

As the surgery went into its third hour, the police eventually tracked down Lara at the hospital. Pausing from the paperwork, Lara looked up to see 2 inspectors in worn out suits move toward her. They sat down opposite beside her in the plastic chairs and explained the situation to her. With the Strahov being almost blown apart, the authorities had more digging to do and at the moment, they would keep Lara's "case" on hold. Paperwork still in lap whilst cradling her long-cold coffee, Lara answered their questions – putting the major portion of the blame on Eckhardt and trying to evade the supernormal side of affairs. The inspectors assured her that with recent evidence they had and were collecting from the Strahov, the odds were in her favour and it was highly unlikely that Lara would be charged with any degree of murder. But before she is cleared, she would be required to answer more questions from the authorities and aid them in catching (rather identifying) the real culprits.

Thanking them for their time, with the sweetest smile the raider could muster, Lara returned to fulfilling the paperwork. That, and praying to every single god and deity she ever read about to protect Kurtis and let him live. After submitting the papers, she stretched her legs in the uncomfortable chair, crossing them at the ankles while allowing her head to rest in her palm. A sad fact then dawned upon her – after Werner and Winston, he was the closest thing she had to a friend. And as caught up in the events as she was, Lara never even properly grieved for Werner. She grinded her jaw when tears sprang upto her eyes, after all, the one person who truly taught her how to live _was_ dead; albeit avenged.

'You still have Kurtis!' a small voice exclaimed in the corner of her mind. Shocked at the thought, she allowed her mind to justify the notion. 'Kurtis,' she thought, and felt a slight sigh escape her lips. Her partner – seeming to share almost the same traits as her. 'Bold, shamelessly bold, and human…' she thought, a ghost of a smile framing her features. She was nodding and agreeing with herself, reminiscing about the Louvre... 'But you better tread carefully, girl,' she warned herself. It was not long before the raider's lids drooped as sleep overcame her, as she welcomed the darkness and solace it brought along with it.

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><p>Coughing from the smoke and gasping for air, she made her way through the burning Strahov – aware of the fact at their arrival, the police would soon take over the place. Yet she smiled to herself – she still had a good few hours, for even with this ticking time bomb, it would take the fire brigade a considerable while to put out the fire. She was practically home free.<p>

Soon the foundations combusted, and as a flaming beam fell, she rolled forward into an awaiting elevator for safety. Ignoring the warning to evacuate, she looked at the options on the elevator. Recalling from whatever notes she had gathered, Eckhardt and the Cabal had unexplained, profound love for underground caverns. Shrugging, she pressed a button marked Aquatic research II – the second most lowest floor of the Strahov (the last being "containment"). The Vault of Trophies – an ancient making of the warrior-monks Lux Veritatis, was based on a flooded passage and deep abyss under the Strahov. 'This level,' she concluded mentally, 'would surely give some clue as to what became of the last Obscura painting… and Eckhardt.'

Once the elevator doors opened, she found herself in an area relatively unaffected by the fire or the explosion. She could imagine with a building the size of the Strahov, some underground parts can remain unaffected. She could only guess the source of the explosion was somewhere far – for this area seemed to be the epitome of peace and tranquility.

An arena, of sorts – she mused. Getting her bearings, she realized she was standing on a raised platform, with a control panel besides an opening. Below this platform sprawled a huge plain – the middle portion of the floor sealed with circular metal. Water from beneath the floor reflected light gently onto her razor sharp features - even through the small holes, she seemed like an ethereal beauty. Hanging from the edge, she dropped down from the platform, onto the arena. Far toward the left, she saw a mutant carcass – seemingly of a giant spider-cum-scorpion. Right beside the metal floor, a decapitated nymph lay – ruptured brains and foul acid seeping from its ugly head and neck. Yet it was the crop of black hair that intrigued her. Bending down, she grasped the head from the black hair, and gently picked up the head, to look at the grotesque features of the bullet-ridden face. There was no mistaking the general ugliness of the creature.

"Boaz," she muttered aloud, before gulping.

Letting the head fall back into a splatter of its own brains, she eyed Muller's desecrated body in a corner – already rotting. A deep sense of hatred blossomed within her chest – which was soon crushed by intrigue as she approached a pool of blood in the middle of the metal floor, crimson dripping down into the water below. Still fresh. She wondered if it belonged to Croft, or the man with her.

All the while, she felt strangeness in the air – as if it were charged by the very same source that powered her. Clutching the diamond amulet-pendant at her neck, she felt her weapon vibrate with power beside her leg. Glancing a small opening, at the far end of the room, she went inside and saw a staircase. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself and made her way down the staircase – towards the lost domain.

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><p><em>Karel morphed into Kurtis – lifeless, stony blue eyes staring at her. 'You can trust me, Lara Croft,' he promised. Lies. All lies.<em>

_The Sanglyph was not enough. Two negatives do not make a positive in this case. The Sleeper watched her through open, crimson slits – for it had survived. And it would extract its revenge._

'_You humans break so easily.' Those words, echoing as if put on an endless loop. Werner, Carvier, Bouchard, Vasiley, Luddick… Kurtis? _

_She was back again at the arena - bent over Kurtis' cold body, sobbing over his bloodless face, holding his sinewy neck to her face and weeping bitterly. 'Not you… please Kurtis, not you – not again…' she said amidst muffled cries and sobs. 'Please…'_

"Miss? Wake up – Miss Croft?"

Eyes fluttering open, Lara opened her eyes to see the elderly male doctor – who had immediately taken her partner for surgery, gently waking her up.

"I-uhh… Sorry I dozed off…" Lara muttered an apology.

The considerate doctor smiled warmly. "It is quite alright, child. We have just come out from surgery. Could you see me in my office?"

Lara merely nodded and followed the medicine practitioner into his work-place. Throwing away the smock, mask and disposable bandana, Dr. Maurice retired behind his desk as Lara sat across him. Fear and tension were practically choking her – all that for someone whom she had met just 2 days ago, and exchanged just a few lines – baring business. She would have mocked herself if she were not so afraid.

"Is he-?" she couldn't complete the question. The visions of her nightmare danced before her eyes.

"Ms Croft, I must tell you that your friend here was seriously hurt," began the doctor, sounding serious. "I have never, in all my years of practice, have come across such a grave case. And..." he paused dramatically. Raising his eyebrows in unfeigned wonder, he added "And astounding recovery."

Lara's spirits lifted a bit at this news, as she let out a breath she never realised she was holding. The doctor stood up and pointed to a skeleton hanging in the office. "The spear – as you said was what impaled him – went clean through his back and out from his torso. In doing so, it ruptured around 3 of Mr Trent's spinal ligaments – which caused him immense difficulty in even standing up. Yet what I have experienced is nothing short of a miracle!" the doctor exclaimed as his accent thickened, fixing his gaze at the raider. "Due to the rupturing, the patient's vertebra was knocked out of alignment – although he sustained no spinal injury as such. However, the torn ligaments, which usually take around 6 months to heal completely, have already re-aligned the spine in place and started to strengthen it."

Lara did her best to look shocked, but she merely bit back a smile. Evidently, being a telekinetic and possibly telepathic alongside harbouring a whole other range of super-natural powers had its perks. No wonder every other day, some delusional fool went out hunting for artifacts to experience _that_ kind of a high.

"So, you believe he's going to be fine?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

"With the unusually speedy rate of recovery, the fact that most major organs missed the spear by mere millimeters, he should be just fine," he returned with a knowing smile.

For the first time in recent times, Lara felt genuinely joyous. Kurtis Trent or DeCombel or whatever his real name was – seemed to have cheated death right off its face, very much like herself. After asking his permission to see Kurtis, Lara strolled down the hallway, with the slightest bounce in her step and almost cheerily entered Kurtis' room.

Almost.

He was lying on the bed, fresh bandages covering his torso and midriff and going behind his right shoulder. Cuts and bruises marked his entire body. An oxygen mask was placed onto his face, hiding a portion of his profile, his hair was messily strewn across his forehead; his darkest of sea-blue eyes were closed and amongst the beeping equipment, Kurtis deep and strong breathing made up for the sounds in the hospital room. He was sleeping peacefully.

Walking over to him, Lara took in his profile – a slightly long face, high cheekbones, straight nose, unshaven stubble and even a scar under his left eye. Accompanied by a good six-feet plus strong, lean frame, tanned skin, black-brown hair and eyes that one can drown into – her partner was undoubtedly a helluva good-looking man. Feelings obviously shrouding her judgement, Lara unthinkingly bent down and kissed his forehead, while a solitary tear rolled out from her eyes and fell onto his cheek.

"Thanks for sticking around," she murmured to Kurtis, wiping her tears – shocked at herself. But more so at Kurtis, who began to stir and sigh, awakened by the raider.

Partially opening his bloodshot eyes, he moaned and as he tried to take in the surroundings. His first thought was that of pain – immense and sore, hurting his torso and a dull ache spreading behind his eyes. As his vision swam into focus, he saw Lara sitting beside him, holding his hand and softly calling his name. "L-lara?" he croaked. His throat felt like parchment.

"Yes, its me," she answered somberly. "You're at the hospital – and you're healing well."

Nodding, he looked about and took off the mask. 'God, I needed a cigarette,' he thought to himself. However as his senses sharpened, he felt tension in the air – something was not right.

Lara's mood darkened, as she recalled his aliases. He may have done her a favour by not dying, yes, but she still knew nothing about him. And whatever little she did know, was clouded with doubt. "Who _are _you?" she inquired, strongly now.

"Wh-what?"

"You heard me." Oddly enough, she felt her previous soft feelings melt away to an underlying fury. She knew next to nothing about this guy – and it was time she became more cautious - for strangers have usually done her more harm than good.

He was still in pain, but he gave her an incredulous look. "C-Come on," returned Kurtis, getting mildly agitated.

"Going through your belongings, I came across a number of aliases. So I have no idea if you are Troy Elliot, or Sheldon Turner, or Archer Smith, or Heisstrum DeCo -"

"Trent!" he shot, almost angrily.

Lara was taken aback at his harsh tone. "My name – used to be DeCombel. Its-Trent now." Lara relaxed a bit – although she had a whole bunch of questions to ask, she kept quiet. Being impaled was not exactly a pleasant experience, and he did save her life in a way, protected her from the monstrosity that was Boaz. Cold as she had become after Egypt, she realized she was in the wrong, and it was hardly the time to push Kurtis too hard.

"M-my bad," she admitted, bowing her head. "I just needed to be sure about your identity. I am through with unpleasant surprises – and this is definitely a conversation for another day."

"Amen…" Kurtis had enough strength to manage a small, humourless snigger. "My past- t'is long story. I-can imagine you hating my-guts when you hear-'bout it…" He spoke slowly, amidst pained sighs. "Or what's-left-of-my-guts-anyway," he added in a matter-of-fact tone.

His self-deprecating humour brought a faint smile to her lips. "Trent, we've all made our mistakes," she began only to be cut off by him.

"My mistakes- cost me every-single-person I loved," he added darkly, closing his eyes and trying to fight the pain in his guilt-ridden soul. "Please. We'll talk 'bout this... Another day…" he shook his head.

"Agreed," Lara muttered before helping him sit up a bit, and giving him water to drink. An uncomfortable silence took over.

"How-long would I be in this... hell-hole?" he asked, sounding tired all of a sudden.

"Being super-natural is aiding your healing process, Kurtis – you needn't fret that much. A couple of weeks, I should imagine," Lara speculated. "After all, your managed to sow your spinal ligaments by yourself in barely a few hours, when it should have taken you months."

Kurtis laughed at that, the bracketed skin beside his mouth deepening into side dimples. It was the first time she had seen him give a genuine smile. Lara unconsciously added "amazing smile" to her ever-increasing list of Kurtis' handsome physical attributes. That, before she gave herself a harsh, mental slap. "I'll be-out in less than half-the-time," he said lowly.

"But even that would mean at least a month," she notified him. After seeing his acknowledgement, she yawned and stretched herself – exhaustion descending upon her once more. "Where you staying?" asked Kurtis.

"No idea – but I should be going now, visiting hours must be ending-" she paused, considering how ridiculous the words she had just uttered actually were to her.

"Not that you've ever-cared about such limits," remarked the demon hunter, his azure eyes flaming with the same teasing playfulness as they had in the Louvre.

Lara mustered a small smile. "Not that I've ever cared, true –" admitted the adventurer. "But I believe its high time I treated myself to a nice, hot shower and a good night's sleep, if you don't mind" she returned as she got up and collected her stuff. "I'll be back to see you tomorrow, Kurtis. Get well, please."

"Will do. You stay warm," he returned, sinking back on the pillows.

Smiling, the raider exited the room. Thinking about how a man like Kurtis would calm and enrage her within seconds – as if her hormones and emotions were riding the wildest roller-coaster. That and deluding herself that everything was going to be alright.

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><p>Eckhardt's lab had been reduced to nothing more than broken wooden beams and slabs of stone. Moving carefully over the rubble, she wondered <em>what<em> exactly had caused the explosion, considering the alchemist had cast all kinds of charms upon his workplace to protect it from various accidents, combustion being one of them. She knelt down, crawled under a beam, and rolled down the slide towards the main door of the underground arena – the heart of Eckhardt's activity. Huge boulders and beams had sealed the main doors shut – but she had found a vent opening, high up above the doors. Spotting a ledge, she jumped up to grab it, and proceeded to jump further up to grab the tiles above the doorway, and the third jump, she clutched the edge of the vent. Hauling herself up, she shot the exhaust fan, kicking the blades out from her way and rolled into the arena.

Like the lab, this place was reduced to mere rubble as well. But before she could contemplate the destruction, her sixth sense tingled and she obliged, jumping behind a boulder to witness a scene she never thought she would.

Amidst from the rubble rose a figure with deliberate grace, with a pale golden light around it. As the seconds slipped by, the gold light began to morph into ominous emerald green flames. Dark coloured clothes worn by the figure were partially burnt away to reveal gray, marked skin. It levitated over the rocks and debris for a bit, before stopping in front of a large rock. It raised its hands, enabling the green fire to attack the debris, the flames licking away the rock to reveal another buried being. Scooping up a smaller, skinnier version in its arms, it turned to face door. It then uttered words in the deepest, most sinister voice anyone could imagine – the words themselves would haunt her forever.

"We shall taste their blood," he almost crooned to the seemingly unconscious figure. Even that sounded like boulders rolling down slopes – she shivered as the room suddenly became several degrees colder. "The Great Work will be completed – We are stronger now," he finished. After this, he merely blasted the doors once blocked by rubble off its hinges in a beam of blinding green energy, as she collapsed onto her knees, holding her head in her hands - trembling with fear as the shadows from the room rose – and followed the figure outside.

"What h-have-you done?" she whispered, deathly.

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><p><strong>Heheheh :D A tiny cliffie - but I think we all know who this is :P<strong>

**Please review and let me know how this was - I'll give you a cookie! :D**


	4. Imminent

Hello everybody! Long time *avoids a shower of stones and knives*

I know, and I am so very sorry for not uploading for almost a year… Real life is a true bummer. Finishing my school, contemplating university plans, possibly shifting abroad for higher studies – I truly have been busy and could not find any time to update.

Though I have been free for some time – I had to really think about how to present this chapter, so as to make it interesting and short – and keep still keep the story alive (despite its dormancy).

So forgive me, my awesome readers: **Angry1996, gyikhu, Jessica151294, isaalacrymosa** – and most of all, dearest **nemesis**! I absolutely cherished all your reviews – and now I will try my very best to update more frequently (no more year-long breaks, God-willing!)

Without any further ado – here's an update! Hope you all enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, apart from the plot and my OC.**

**Warning:** The last bit of this chapter – its pretty gory. I'd give it a 16+ rating if I could!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Imminent<strong>

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><p>It had been two weeks since Lara brought her comrade to the hospital, following the bizarre events at the Strahov. After extensive investigations, the real culprit of the Monstrum killings was declared to be Pieter van Eckhardt by the authorities, who had committed an aggregate of 57 murders in the past few decades, though the "Monstrum" insignia was only attributed to him only recently.<p>

Externally, everything seemed to fall in place for Lara. She had finally spoken to Winston, brought him up to date with everything. The events from the Strahov had given her some new scars and bruises – which were healing nicely. Her name was cleared by the authorities, though she knew it would be a long while before the public distrust abated. Yet internally, she was at a bitter war with herself – grieving for her lost mentor, chasing the ghosts of her past, reliving buried memories, and the emotional onslaught that came with them.

She had forced herself to a fortnight of staying cooped up inside a mediocre hotel. Apart from regular visits to Kurtis, and long walks in the dead of winter, she stayed in her room, compelling herself to face her fears and reservations, her ordeal at Egypt, Werner's bitter betrayal. The events of the Strahov had led to a culmination of repressed feelings and unaccounted emotions. Her primal sense to survive had trumped them in the fortress, allowing her to function properly in the face of adversity. But ever since the danger was removed, she resigned herself to a sterile hotel room, trying to make peace with the remorse, shame, rage and the incessant, consuming grief.

Trent, on the other hand, stayed at the hospital and was regaining his strength steadily. Restless, he felt supremely annoyed to be reduced to lying ram-rod straight, doing mild physiotherapy, eating the tasteless food. Charming the nurses had been one way of passing time, and recently he had started wondering if one could be simply bored to death. Lara had taken the liberty of dealing with all the bills – and he often kept thinking how he could pay her back. Though he felt some pride restored, his present financial state was in shambles, his goals uncertain.

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><p>Thousands of miles away, sat another female on the desk of her library - cell phone in between her ear and shoulder, half listening to her mother's lectures on the need to settle down, half still contemplating her next move.<p>

"Ma-…" she began, but was cut short.

Her mother paused. "You haven't been listening to a single word I've been saying, have you?" an annoyed voice answered from the other end of the line.

She smiled, picturing her mother and wishing she could hug her. "A little more than that, mama… But I promise I'll pick this up with you when I'm done with this."

A sigh was heard on the other end of the line. "You don't have to do this, my girl. And you know it!"

"This is my destiny, mother."

"Its your _choice!_ One that I do not approve of!"

She clenched her eyes tightly shut, and pinched the bridge of her nose tightly. On the other end of the line, her mother took in a deep slow breath to calm herself.

"Give daddy my love. I should get back to work now," she replied toneless, eyes still closed.

"Think about it child. Take care, and may God be with you," And with that, the phone line went dead.

Placing her cell phone on the ancient maps, books and scripts that littered the table, she leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms, taking in the messy paraphernalia that surmised her life post-Strahov.

'I should eat by now,' she wondered, but the Arabic encryption she had been working on since the past few hours still beckoned her. Rubbing her tired eyes, she put on her reading glasses and resumed solving it, realizing that it was only a matter of time before the world would be at peril again.

The Strahov, her failure, her creed, the lives lost; all to eradicate a danger that she knew was impending.

They had all come too far, and now, with such little time left, she knew there was no turning back.

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><p>"Look who turns up at the hospital this beautiful morning," mocked Kurtis with narrowed eyes but a half-smile, propped up against the pillows, breakfast tray (complete with a half-eaten burnt toast) in place.<p>

"The bearer of a proper meal," returned Lara curtly, shaking a McDonalds paper bag in front of his face, tantalizing Kurtis with the sweet aroma of hot pancakes. "But if you want me gone…"

"No! Stay; sit, have mercy," he replied warmly. Lara smirked before setting the bag on his tray and making herself comfortable on the plastic chair beside the hospital bed.

"And – I'll have you know, its like the Arctic out there. So you should be thankful, pampered as you are," she emphasized, making light joke of his condition.

Kurtis was already halfway through the pancakes. He swallowed a large mouthful before replying. "Pampered?!" he raised an eyebrow. "T'is place is a glorified prison, Croft. Take my word on it," he replied, talking dangerously low.

Lara's eyebrows shot up in slight surprise. "Yes, I'm sure it is. And the buxom blonde nurse here must be one frightening guard…" her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Gisele?" he looked up, a familiar lopsided grin in place. "Nahh… She makes this place bearable."

"Spare me the details, Trent."

"Whatever you say…"

A comfortable silence fell in between the two. Over the course of Trent's recovery, both the adventurers had struck up a decent friendship. At first, they talked strictly business but lately, harmless, playful banter slowly made its way to their conversations. Still reeling from the darkness that had plagued them for so long, they both grabbed the opportunity to enjoy a few light moments. Like an unspoken agreement, it would never be acknowledged upfront, but it would also never be denied.

"Y'know," Kurtis drawled, mouthing a last piece. "You never asked me how I was doing today, Croft. Manners, manners…"

Lara arched an eyebrow. "Something tells me you're just fine. That, and maybe you're too bored for your own good."

"You got that right," Kurtis returned, before downing the last bit of orange juice. "I test my powers, every now and then-"

"Scoping out this Gisele with your farsight, I presume?"

"Ha ha. Very funny, Lara," Kurtis replied robotically. "Thing is – I can now perform most of my powers without major incidents. No more blackouts, negligible dizziness. Physically, I have almost healed. There is absolutely no reason for me to be-"

A blood curdling scream echoed throughout the hospital – stopping Kurtis short in his sentence. Lara snapped upright, adrenaline kicking in already. She jogged toward the window, realizing that it was a straight two-floor drop. The raider would just about make it, but despite Kurtis' claims and his previous show at the Lourve, she wouldn't risk the same with Kurtis.

What followed afterwards were a series of muffled shouts to evacuate, and ferocious, animalistic cries.

Kurtis was already on his feet, standing next to Lara. The chirugaii, which had remained dormant in a hospital drawer, immediately sprung to life, glowing a bright gold as it encircled both the adventurers. Lara formed fists of her hands, and readied her stance for combat.

"Get dressed," ordered Lara – fearing the worst. Kurtis complied soundlessly. He went behind a curtain, slipping into his tattered army trousers – fresh bandages adorning his torso before crossing sideways to cover a bullet-graze wound on his shoulder.

It was not long before growls filled the very floor the duo was in. The howling, along with screams, shuffling feet, gunshots and the slamming of doors was only part of the cacophony that rang outside. Yet Lara and Kurtis stayed put, within the room; Lara thinking about stealing the security guard's gun belt who patrolled the floor, and Kurtis contemplating the use of farsight to determine the identity of the threat.

Both their trains of thought were stopped short when the blonde nurse in question previously burst into the room – blood covering her uniform, a panicky expression plastered onto her suddenly pale face.

"Mister Trent! You've gotto-aaargh!"

Lara's hands curled into fists automatically, watching the nurse's head being torn off from her shoulders with a sickening rip – before looking dead on at two crimson orbs of a bloody beast.

"The Proto?!"

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><p>Yeouch! Not my favourite way to end a chapter. But please read and review; let me know how this is! Thanks! :)<p> 


	5. Massacre

**Hello fine folks :)**

Here's another update for this story. The descriptions tend to be pretty gory – you've been warned! Though gore isn't exactly my forte, but I gave it a shot – so do let me know how the descriptions fared :)

Tons of thanks to **Nemesis, Jessica 151294** and **Ferilium**! You really put a smile on my face – and glad to see you liked (read: hated) my evil cliffie (muahahah :D) Also, I see most of you are curious to see who this mysterious lady is – I'll take a while before revealing her identity (still working on her backstory atm). But I'd simply love to hear your guesses! :)

Without any further ado...

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Massacre<strong>

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><p>Blood and saliva dripped slowly down the creature's mouth, muscles and veins stretched taut over its skinless skeletal body. The beast was as ferocious as before, if not more – and it fed on the late Gisele's body with amazing speed, mirroring its insatiable hunger.<p>

Lara looked towards Kurtis, who was only beginning to recover from the momentary shock. Lips set in a grim line, he silently sent his chirugai forward, a spinning disc of gold, towards the creature's sinewy neck.

To her barely concealed horror, Lara watched it lightly scar the roped sinews of the creature's neck – only managing to distract it from its meal than cause any damage. The Proto let out a growl as it looked up from the gory carcass, sighting two potential targets. After a long gaze, he returned back to ravaging the nurse's remains.

Defeated, the glaive hummed back to the demon hunter, circling about him. Lara's mind quickly rolled over the options available to them. Defenseless, save for her mind and fists, she found the prospect of the two-story drop become more appealing by the second. Yet she was weighed down with only one notion. _It will kill the damn idiot –who signed him on anyway?_

"Any bright ideas, ace?" asked Lara, tone bitter with sarcasm. Mentally, she was already recalling most of her judo training, in a bid to tackle the beast and find an avenue for escape. Feet set apart with knees bent for balance, Lara's fists loosened only slightly. The Proto's growls were becoming menacing, as if merely _annoyed_ by the adventurer's presence – though its stance was relaxed as the primal sound of it crushing and chewing bones and meat ricocheted off the room.

Kurtis telekinetically operated the bedside drawer to open silently, and beckoned a steel scissor to his outstretched hand. "Scalpel in med-tray, your right," he spoke lowly. Lara identified and retrieved the object within moments.

"Aim for the area below the ear – an all out attack should buy us enough time to run out the door. On count of three," he murmured, barely audible, as Lara nodded in reply. He held up three fingers, and counted them down.

Three – she took in a deep breath, allowing an adrenaline rush to surge through.

Two – the Proto looked up to see the adventurers now taking attacking positions. It fixed its demonic gaze onto them

One – all Lara could hear was the familiar sound of her heart thundering in anticipation of combat. She meant to leave this place, alive and in one piece. With her comrade. She always got what she wanted.

Upon the signal, both the adventurers moved in silently – yet in perfect synchronization. Lara thrust the scalpel at the mutant's neck – pressing it as deep into it as she could muster. A glance at her partner revealed him mirroring the same at the left side of the creature's neck. The chirugai, flashing a brilliant gold, rotated speedily, attempting to decapitate the monster – its blades dripping with blood as it worked like a saw against the Proto's neck.

The Proto growled throughout, before throwing his neck upwards and letting out a painful, penetrating howl. Lara signaled to Kurtis, taking it as their cue to escape, and after nodding an affirmative reply, the duo took off in a sprint in the hallway, leaving the bleeding, enraged demon behind.

The air of the hallway was heavy with the acrid stench of the corpses, blood and impending death. Scrawled all upon the walls was the familiar Monstrum insignia – drawn out of the blood of the many civilians – doctors, nurses and patients. Innocent people who had once opted to dedicate themselves to saving lives, the sick and injured who had many a dream of their own - all butchered heartlessly, reduced to disemboweled carcasses. Many were littered on the floor, bodies twisted and tangled, limbs missing – few with sightless eyes, their faces a frozen mask of sheer horror.

Lara and Kurtis – both operating on basic survival instincts, had no time to even contemplate giving the victims decent burial rites. They knew they would soon join their ranks if they stopped now. Yet sprinting and hopping over the bodies, they halted in mid-run at the sight of two figures, each standing aside the elevator, clad in black and grey striped suits with their backs turned to the duo. Painting the walls. In blood. With _spears_ in place of hands.

"The mutants?" Kurtis murmured, as realization dawned upon him. At that moment, a ferocious growl resounded – the animalistic timbre echoing throughout the hallway. And worse, it seemed too close for comfort.

Lara, frozen in her tracks, managed to peek over shoulder. Within then feet of her, a particularly testy Proto glared back, mouth open in anticipation of fresh meat.

"Run!"

Grabbing his wrist, she pushed Kurtis along the remainder of the hallway, the Proto hot on their heels.

Once the duo got closer to the elevator, the mutants that guarded turned to meet them, fact to face. Upon a cursory glance, Lara deduced these were subjects of extensive genetic experimenting. Horrific creations of Boaz; once human, now deranged, primal and utterly insane.

Before Lara could formulate an attack strategy against them, Kurtis had swiftly sent his glaive and decapitated the mutations before they even had an inkling of what was going on. And as the doors of the elevator hissed open, the Kurtis dived in the nick of time, while Lara grabbed the gunbelt of a slain guard and flipped forwards into the elevator gracefully. Kurtis then telekinetically slamming the doors shut behind them. Safe inside the metal compartment, they paused to catch their breath, and get their thoughts in order.

Panting, Lara looked at her comrade, taking in his harsh breathing and slick, pale complexion, as a terrible stitch in her own abdomen slowly began to subside. Kurtis leaned back against the wall, bandaged chest heaving with exertion, while Lara was almost doubled over in pain – mentally cursing at her Egypt's reminder. _'He'll live,_' she thought.

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><p>Her worst fears were beginning to materialize, and fast.<p>

Innate instinct and sheer luck drove her back to the wintry heart of the Czech Republic, all the way from Damascus, where she followed up a lead on the Cabal - Precisely in time to witness the terrifying attack of the mutants of the Strahov onto a hospital that supposedly treated Croft's buddy.

Trent had been his present name. Kurtis Trent, previously, Kurtis DeCombel, son of Konstantin Heisstrum DeCombel. Possibly the last living member of the Knights Templar offshoot – the Lux Veritatis. Peachy.

After helping many of the civilians to escape the hospital in time, she climbed the drainpipe to the first floor – after which she used her rock climbing and parkour skills to scale another floor of the building using only windowsills and the patterned walls. The sheer cold cut through her to the bone, almost making her teeth chatter. Her hooded jacket did not block out the blistery cold wind entirely, but was warm enough to allow her muscles movement without getting in the way.

Reaching the second floor, she vaulted over yet sat crouched onto the flat windowsill, watching a bloodied hallway, littered with the bodies of the unfortunate ones who could not escape the Proto. She saw two figures dive into the elevator, slammed the doors shut, with the Proto growling ferociously at being deprived of his targets.

She vaulted over the sill and landed in a swift catlike motion. Standing at her full length, she walked forwards swiftly towards the Proto – taking out a security camera with a slick throw of a small knife. Withdrawing two glowing Periapt Shards from her back pouch, she stood poised with the weapons – body braced for combat, stance carefully easy, small smile tugging the corner of her mouth as she looked up from the hood at the monstrous beast, blissfully unaware of its impending doom.

"Hello ugly, it's showtime."

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><p>The Proto, enraged at losing sight of his potential meals, howled and barked at the door of the elevator, occasionally slamming against the steel doors to no avail.<p>

Lara pressed for ground-floor. "Where'n the hell are the Shards, Croft?!" he burst forth once the elevator was in motion.

"I presumed they were destroyed in the explosion," replied Lara, deadpan.

"Great! Now how do _you_ propose are we take down that beast?" asked Trent, cold and seething, as he paced the length of the lift.

"The Proto wouldn't be alive had you done a decent job in the first place!" Lara shot back, indignantly.

Sighing in frustration, he paused for a moment, pinched the bridge of his nose, holding up a hand in an almost defensive manner. "I sure as hell killed it with my Shards, Croft. Yet its still back. There must be something more to this."

"Really now, boy-genius? What was your first clue?" Lara mocked coldly.

Trent sent her a chilling glare, before mentally beckoned the chirugai to him, calming down at the sight of his trusted weapon. Lara merely shook her head and took the moment to fasten the recently retrieved gunbelt around her own small waist, immediately drawing the Beretta pistol it held and checking it for ammo.

"We'll get through this. I know it," he said, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead. "First we need to get out of here in once piece, then we can argue all we want."

"Agreed," Lara nodded at the truce.

A single "ding" announced their arrival on the ground-floor – the unfolding scene even worse than the hallway above.

Sheer massacre.

The stale, gray walls of the hospital were now smeared with ancient writings and the mutants' cultish symbols – all from the blood of the innocent civilians that lay sprawled, with limbs and heads missing. There were more dead guards in the area, and the carcasses of dead mutants as well – giving the impression of a brave gunfight.

The reception area was a gory mess – with the cheery, elderly female that always greeted Lara sprawled over the counter in an unceremonious fashion, spread-eagled with practically half her face and torso eaten out off. The blood from her mutilated face dripped down her face to her neck, before pooling at the floor.

Kurtis felt bile rise up in his throat – the pancakes he had relished only moments ago now threatening to come out through his mouth. Lara closed her eyes shut and grimaced, knowing this was one such scenario which would always haunt her for the rest of her life.

Ignoring the wave of nausea, he quietly signaled Lara to stay quiet beside him. Holding up his hands in front of him, he beckoned his supernatural abilities, and with a gust of chi hi sent his mind's eye forward from his body, taking a look around the area for any threats, or survivors.

There were none.

When his mind's eye returned to his body, the force was astoundingly harsh. Knocking him clean off his feet, he slipped and grabbed the back railing reflexively before he hit the ground flat. His vision was blurred with red, as black and white dots danced around his eyes. Lara's voice seemed to come from far away, and all he could register was the sound of blood thundering in his ears, and a sudden, bone-weary exhaustion.

Lara crouched beside her partner, checked for pulse and forehead, finding it racing and slick with sweat respectively. He was clearly far from being fit, having lost countless pints of blood in his ordeal with Boaz. A simple farsee-exercise had him panting as if he'd run a marathon.

After a few moments, Kurtis felt his head clear a bit, limited strength return to his limbs. He held his head with one hand, using the railing as a support to stand with the other. "No more mutants," he growled out.

"Negligible dizziness, my ass," Lara retorted coldly, repeating his own words before looping an around his waist, which he wriggled out of.

"It's still a cute ass," he smirked, as he began walking forwards, albeit slowly.

Lara had an undeniably strong urge to punch him square in the face for that comment. Gritting her teeth, she sent him a glare instead – promising murder. Kurtis in turn, lowered his gaze before muttering "Exit's to the right."

Beretta cocked in front of her, Lara strode forward silently, stepping over the bodies and trying not to slip on the blood. Kurtis followed, faithful chirugai humming about him.

The duo walked in through the fire exit to a passage, with Kurtis picking up a jacket off a slain security guard before wearing it over his bandaged torso. Lara opened the final metal gate, immediately letting in a gust of chilly wind. Wrapping her arms around herself, she and Kurtis both walked out in the ankle deep snow.

Hearing the sirens blare outside, they broke into a slight jog. Though technically not fugitives on the run, both wished to remain hidden should they be asked to explain the paranormal events that had culminated to this point.

Lara jogged toward the direction of her hotel – realizing she needed to give Winston, and another friend a call, and get her gear in order for the single-most dangerous venture of her life.

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><p><strong>Done :D <strong>

**Please do leave me a review and let me know how it was! Thanks!**


	6. Serendipity

Hello readers! :)

So I'm back with another update! This chapter gave me a pretty tough time.. At times I felt it just droned on and on.. Then I realised I need to curtail minute details :p

Once again - many, many thanks to **wyverndragon, Ferilium, nemesis** and **Jessica151294** for reviewing! *hugs all and hands out cookies!*

As to who the lady is.. I've done tonnes of historical research into various hidden orders and sects.. My original plot for this story was very simple, however I'm now adding more layers and more secrecy into everything.. Therefore it'd be a while before things start becoming clearer.. You'd just have to bear the bickering duo until then :D

**Disclaimer: Own nothing but the plot... Sadly :/**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Serendipity<strong>

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><p>Lara paced the length of her hotel room, massaging her temples and trying to think and ignore the beginnings of a terrible migraine. Kurtis seated himself upon the sofa, clad in tattered trousers, boots and a stolen jacket wrapped over his bandaged torso, giving him the look of a modern tragic hero. Leg stretched onto a small coffee table, a cigarette dangled from his lips, the burning nicotine annoying Lara to the point where she felt like a powder-keg ready to explode.<p>

"Kurtis Trent – you are a disgusting man," she shot icily from her end of the room.

Kurtis nonchalantly proceeded to inhale deeply, letting the smoke out in an exaggerated plume, gazed fixed straight at some point on the wall that he found incessantly fascinating.

"I've been called worse," he returned tonelessly, mind far away from their current verbal spar.

Closing her eyes to block out a wave of fury, Lara mentally counted to ten before exhaling loudly. "Smoking aside, my oh-so-_misunderstood_ friend," her words dripped with bitter sarcasm. Kurtis merely blinked, gaze still affixed ahead.

"You're implying you haven't the slightest as to why the Proto's still alive. Despite you presumably killing it. The last of a revered Order. Have you any idea what you're saying?"

"Hurm..."

Lara marched from her side of the room toward Kurtis, lifted his foot off the coffee table and let it fall to the ground, the consequential jerk shaking Trent out from his thoughts. She seated herself opposite the demon hunter, where his foot rested a moment ago.

"You're saying," Lara continued, fixing a death-glare on the man opposite her, "that dozens of people were butchered this fine day, because you did not finish the job correctly. And furthermore, you can't recall a _single_ useful bit of information as to how-"

"Jesus Christ! Are you done yet, Croft?!" Azure orbs flared with anger. "I told you – I told you all I know! I _cannot_ even begin to imagine how the part-Nephilim survived the Shards!" he paused before standing up and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Ahh, yes… I'm sure hybrid mutant-devils have no place amongst the unicorns and rainbows of your dreamland-"

"If I'm at fault for not killing the Proto properly, which I sure as hell _did_ - then you are at equal fault for letting the damned thing out in the first place!" he returned hotly, pointing a tapered finger at Lara, before feigning a concerned expression. "So my sincere apologies, _Miss _Croft, but I don't do blame-games with death at a spitting distance." He spoke with his jaws grinding, smoke billowing from his mouth as the cigarette neared its end, tone icy and bitter.

Lara felt a tad ashamed of attacking him like she did, though she obviously hid it well. It was both their fight, and she knew she was wrong in venting everything out on him. But habit had always dictated her returning with an even sharper reply whatever the argument. However illogical. That was Lara Croft.

Yet she was interrupted though, by a weak blare resounded from the telephone. Kurtis walked over and attended the phone, listening a while with an arched eyebrow, then offering it to Lara.

"Zip," he said, the name rolling off sarcastically from his tongue.

Grateful for a change, Lara gladly accepted the receiver, and greeted the friend-cum-employee who she hadn't spoken to in years. The friendly yet serious voice on the other end offered words of praise for her survival skills, condolences for Werner – followed by a few light-hearted comments from "back in the day" when he had helped her infiltrate von Croy Industries. She silently listened and replied politely for a while, only wishing she could pick up a fraction of his forever-jovial mood.

"Now to business," said Zip from the other end. "I followed you in the news - through the whole Monstrum business. Did my own research on everything. The entire thing had Tomb Raider stamped on it from the beginning, if ya ask me…"

"Which I didn't, Zip."

"Hey, take it easy… Now something tells me you ain't alone in all this…"

Lara looked at Kurtis, who was now mimicking her earlier move - pacing around restlessly, and rolled her eyes. "Yes, Zip. I've unfortunately teamed up with the last surviving member of the Lux Veritatis who happens to be as clueless as all of us, if not more-" she was cut off not by Kurtis' indignant glare, but by the tech expert's soft chuckle.

"I'm not talkin' about the blue-eyed soldier-boy, Lara. Did'ya check the news today? After the hospital attack?"

"Uhh… No…" Lara whirled to fetch the television remote, bringing the small dusty screen to life.

"Typical," he said smilingly. "I'll hold on."

Lara cradled the receiver in between her neck and shoulder as she tuned into a TV station that provided news in heavily accented English. A middle-aged, perky-looking red-head in a suit stood in front of the doomed hospital, providing a summary of the barbaric events that rocked the place.

"… _an unprecedented sweeping act of mass murder. The Monstrum has struck again! Shortly after 9AM – human and animalistic creatures previously unseen – attacked and killed majority of the patients, doctors and health staff. The MO of this Monstrum attack is entirely different from its previous assassinations. It is being speculated whether the Monstrum was, in fact, a beast rather than a human serial killer._

_The supposed Monstrum was also found dead in a distinct manner – stabbed multiple times, decapitated, gutted and disemboweled at the door of the elevator. Though the Forensics have taken the carcass into custody, it is unknown who or what actually killed the murdering beast."_

Immediately projected onto the screen was the image of the Proto – censored in many regions of its body – its lifeless head several feet away from its body. The red-glow of its eyes had finally been diminished, and the entire area was covered in muck-greenish brown blood.

Lara and Kurtis, who were unconsciously seated side-by-side inches away from the television screen stared with widened eyes at the sight of the beaten Proto. The phone slipped from Lara's shoulder, falling into her lap, while Kurtis leaned back on one hand and inhaled the last of his fag deeply, muttering obscenities under his breath, absolutely incredulous.

The reporter continued.

"_Eye-witnesses and survivors report an unidentified foreign female clad in black had been in the vicinity, and had guided dozens of trapped civilians outside, saving many lives."_

A few pictures showed a woman, wearing a black coat – directing civilians. The view was obstructed by police vans and the pillars of the main courtyard, and all that could be seen of the woman in question was a partial side-profile.

Tall, dark-haired, tan, mouth agape in mid-sentence and eyes narrowed.

A billion people could fit the image.

"Lara? Lara you there?" a familiar electronic voice resounded.

Lara snapped out from her shock and promptly recovered the receiver. "I saw that, Zip."

"Yeah… So it seems like you both got yourselves a guardian angel – and a seemingly hot one too."

Lara rolled her eyes. "Ahh… The delightful serendipity of coming across a saviour in the guise of a civilian… Now where have I heard that before?"

"You really wanna hear it? OK. There's you. And there's that soldier-boy, to an extent, I think…"

She sighed exasperatedly. "Undoubtedly she helped save many lives, Zip – but… _this_ woman killing the Proto?" Kurtis glanced at Lara, eyes curious and questioning. "I'd take that with a bucket of salt."

"Why not?" Zip returned, almost sanguine. "The armed forces flopped. The gal's a foreigner, they say, and a damn tourist had no business in that area. There is no footage showin' who exactly killed the Proto-thing, but its dead for sure. I'd bet my brand-new tracker-system we've got our killer!"

It was rare for Zip to make so much sense in logic, all at once. And Lara found herself compelled to believe his theory. Nevertheless, the fact that the Proto returned from the dead held enough weight for the seasoned adventurer to be absolutely sure of all information, wary of all dangers.

As if reading her mind, Kurtis spoke to her – "Ask him to do a get full ID and bio-data on her. The picture's not much, I know, but..." There was no need to continue.

Lara nodded before repeating the same to her tech expert, and commanding him to get back to her with quick results, on the woman as well as his research on the Monstrum.

"Gotcha!" and with that, the line went dead.

The cordless receiver in lap, Lara felt stunned. Normally calm in the face of adversary, she felt she needed a moment to collect her thoughts together. That Samaritan could be just that – an ordinary passerby who had yet to strangle her conscience. Or she could be an unforeseen player of this dangerous game.

Ever since she got involved in this, Lara had firsthand, witnessed the destruction, the chaos – and the blood. The endless, copious amounts of crimson splattered on the walls, scrawled in demonic words, pooled on the floor – in Werner's apartment, in the hospital. For a moment, all she could feel was the latent horror of the ordeal she and Trent had just survived – and as her mind unwillingly reeled back to relive the emotions her adrenaline had suppressed only an hour ago.

Blood everywhere.

Blood on her hands.

Like Werner's blood. Lara felt her lungs constrict, heartbeat thunder in her ears, and time slow down. The hair raise at the back of her neck as a chill ran through her body despite the perfectly warm room. She was screaming again, falling into nothingness…

Kurtis noted sweat gather slightly at her brow, fiery brown eyes wide with unspoken emotions, and instantaneously forgot about his anger at her earlier.

"Lara, you okay?" he asked softly, touching a hand to her shoulder.

* * *

><p>No matter how fast she ran, she could not outrun her destiny.<p>

Sprinting into the freezing streets of Prague, the lone dark figure sought comfort in the whispers of the wind in her ears. If only she could drown out the whimpers, cries, screams as innocent blood was split. If only she could escape from those gory corridors, the demonic writing only she could read, and the stench of death.

She paused all of a sudden – allowing her vision to swim back to focus. Pulse throbbing and chest heaving, she found herself surrounded by trees. She walked toward a clearing that led to the famed Charles Bridge.

The area was deserted. Despite being a weekday, the horrors of the hospital had government officials warning all locals to avoid outdoors. She walked forward and let her hood down. Her heartbeat was slowing down, her sanity seemingly returning with it. She clenched her eyes shut for a few seconds, before opening them to an achingly beautiful view of Prague, in all its wintry glory.

Beneath her open coat, she felt the Periapt Shards hum with sheer power at her hip – the Proto's mucky blood still marring its bright crystalline sheen. She retrieved one from her knapsack, shaking, and observed every angle, recalling how she had plunged it deep into the Proto – before cutting its insides open with her army knife.

Artifacts of power, formed by the ore of a meteor by the Templar off-shoot Lux Veritatis. When combined, they can kill any immortal or supernatural being. Typical textbook explanation. Yet her studies revealed far greater power held within these shards. And that was all just the tip of the iceberg.

She looked down toward the dark waters – the chilling wind whipping her few stray raven-strands away from her face. She felt the images from the hospital dance once more in front of her eyes, yet this time, the chaos and complete, utter massacre only brought a sensation of searing rage. Her hands shook with silent fury at the attackers. She narrowed her eyes – hot tears of frustration and anger spilling onto her cheeks, which she wiped away promptly.

The message was delivered - with clarity as outstanding as the horror at the hospital.

But she would not be fazed. She would not falter. Not now, not ever, not again. She had an entire lifetime to ponder over her ventures – but only a precious few days to contemplate a strategy to thwart the next attack.

She inhaled sharply as she glared into the waters, lips pursed tightly, cords in her neck taut with tension.

The message was, indeed, delivered. And it was time to act.

_From Rivers of Blood and From Deep Crimson Skies, the Watchers Stalk, _

_And they will Arise…_

* * *

><p>The moment passed. Lara snapped to reality – mentally calming down, allowing the wave of panic to pass. This was Prague, not Egypt. Eckhardt was dead, the Proto was dead. She had erased the blood from her hands. . She had evaded insanity. She was not running anymore.<p>

"Lara?" Kurtis repeated, gazing intently at her.

Looking at Kurtis, she gulped before tightening her lips and giving a brief, active nod. Nothing worse than revealing your weaknesses, she thought to herself. She leaned across the bed and fetched her backpack, taking out Werner's notebook and her own to update her findings.

Her mind instantly bombarded her with questions, which she voiced in a startled tone: "Could she have killed the Proto? How? Did she use the Shards? All three of them? I thought everything was taken over by the police! And why? What's her deal in this?" Lara's mind was racing with possibilities – none of which seemed to appease her.

"That woman?" Kurtis questioned, raising an eyebrow. "We're jumping the gun here, Lara. We should cover some common ground first."

Lara mentally halted the thought process concerning the stranger, realising how repetitive it was growing. This mystery was far deeper than just the Mafia, a Cabal based on lunatics and an age-old battle for survival. What they required most was information; raw data - on anyone and anything, to shed some light on their current position.

Who better to harbour such secret knowledge than the last of a kind?

"Tell me more about the Shards, Kurtis."

* * *

><p>So there :p<p>

I have most of the next chapter written - so shouldn't take long to update, hopefully. Although I can reveal that the next one will reveal more of the plot.. Or maybe not :p Anyhow, please do review and let me know how this was! Enjoy! :) 


	7. Revelations

Finally back with another update!

I'm still surprised at the length of this chapter – and how long it took me to write even though I had major bits of this written with the previous one…

Anyhow – my round of thanks of course to my lovely, awesome reviewers – **wyverndragon, Ferilium, nemesis** and **Jessica151294** *hugs all and hands out brownies!*

Great to see most of you liking the bickering duo! :D I love writing up those scenes! :)

Also a shoutout to **SatanReaper666, .3 , froggychan** for liking my story enough to add it to their favourites. Thanks guys – truly appreciated!

And now without any further ado…

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing apart from my few random OCs. Peace!

* * *

><p><strong>RETURN OF DARKNESS<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: REVELATIONS<strong>

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><p>Nicol Heinrich looked at the woman beside him. Gripping the railing of the compound, she looked grimly at the stunning gray-pink sunset. The lower part of her face was veiled with a dark handkerchief that served as a makeshift cover, but he knew beneath those striking eyes was a straight, pert nose and shapely lips that would probably be pursed in equally grim thought.<p>

He knew that two years hadn't aged her a bit. If anything, they had added more charm to her than ever before. Despite being a few years senior, he had always followed her around Oxford, fancying himself secretly lovestruck. Her polite denials hadn't persuaded him one bit. But this was all before he'd met Lisa. His darling Lisa.

Most of the masters-students and almost all the undergrads had done the same, at one time or another; overtly or covertly. Barely out of her teens, even then she was not the kind of girl one forgot instantly. If not for the exotic yet classic looks, then her eyes – "Desert Eyes" as they were dubbed, when caught in the sunlight - seemed to pierce through every cover, every veil of every person. As if aware of it herself, she'd always lower her gaze in respect of everyone. The habit hadn't changed. He doubt it ever would. How many young twenty-somethings would do that?

And then there was, of course, her brilliant intellect - she would had everyone baffled, confused, and eventually enlightened before a lecture was over. It was her essence. It was what her own name meant.

"I cannot even begin to imagine how you fit into all this," he said in slightly accented English, before butting out the last end of his cigarette. This bookish, polite, downright _noble_ girl, all clad up in a dark hooded jacket, carrying minor items of weaponry and … artifacts of some kind – like an eccentric adventurer.

She lowered her gaze from the view of the Alps – in all their snowy glory, and stared at the highway going toward the German-Austrian border stretched out like a meandering snake in front of them.

She finally looked up at him – and her expressive eyes told him that she was trying to figure out the same herself.

"I'll tell you one day, Nicol… I will."

He could only nod. As the captain of the German forces, he had arranged everything for her as she had requested. He knew he'd be court-marshalled, maybe even jailed, if the higher ups ever found out. But the attack in Prague only hours ago had only cemented his trust in this minor operation. If the target was even remotely related to what happened in Prague, and previously in Paris, then it was worth it. If he went down, it would undoubtedly be for a just cause. A small price.

His internal rambling was cut short when the target began to rattle up in their combined line of visions. The waiting was over – it was time for action.

Like a cobra springing for an attack, she had vaulted over the railing in a single, fluid movement.

"You have the comm link. Need the slightest of help, just let me know – from infantry to surgical air-strike, you'll have it… Good luck!"

She nodded and turned back to face the captain, and uttered three shaky words before running downhill toward a borrowed bike, revving the engine and going after the target.

"I'll need it."

* * *

><p>"Ancient weapons of the Lux Veritatis," began Kurtis, before launching into a detailed account of the Periapt Shards. "Formed out of the ore of a mysterious meteor that seemed to garner healing properties of all kinds. Found in the outskirts of the Antioch - the 12th century crusader state."<p>

"And these were specifically designed to eradicate Eckhardt?" Lara asked, curious. Her half-eaten sandwich lay abandoned in the plate, as she sat cross-legged on the bed and jot down points in Werner's notebook. It was just after sunset, the duo had, after their regular bickering session, worked up a small appetite, which was alleviated with local sandwiches, fruit and water. Now it was back to business.

"More or less. They are powerful enough to kill any immortal being when combined. Most of the meteor disintegrated when it entered the Earth's atmosphere, it is said – yet a substantial part still survived – the ore seemed untouched. Legend has it that it was discovered by a poor farmer, ailing with lepers, which were healed instantaneously with contact from the Meteor."

Kurtis fished for a cigarette and lighter in his stolen jacket's pocket – "Folk tales are common in the history of the Order. And studying Middle-Age-peasantry was seldom on my to-do list… Oh crap," cursed when he realized he was out.

"Yes, yes, very cultured of you, Trent," Lara returned, not even looking up from the notebook where she jot down the basic facts.

Kurtis gave her a bored glance before continuing. "The farmer guy - He cut the ore into blunt shards, wore a tiny piece around his neck – like an amulet, a periapt-"

"Hence the name?"

"Yes. He made quite a deal out of it, and I guess the name stuck. It is written that the peasant then went on to the local monk, who had experience handling certain supernormal activities- and handed his findings over to him. Now take a guess on who the monk-guy is."

Lara looked at Kurtis, and hiked an arched eyebrow. Appearing annoyed by his childish propositions, she extracted a very secret, very forbidden pleasure in being treated in this manner. Giving her small pieces of puzzle to play with as he looked on, patronisingly.

It was so, so wrong.

But the adventurer found it much easier to ignore this embarrassing emotion entirely, than dissect and try to understand it fully.

She bit back a small smile before rattling her brain for the answer. It was not long before Lara voiced her theories.

"Those supernormal activities, I can guess they had something to do with Eckhardt or the Cabal. If this monk handled such affairs, as you say, then I'm guessing it's one of your ancestors," Lara mused.

"Not just any ancestor – we're talkin' about… the big daddy," Kurtis nodded, smiling as he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms behind his head.

Lara raised an arched eyebrow, as she once again mulled over the knights of the Lux Veritatis in the Vault of Trophies. DeCombel, Occitan, Aicard, Vasiley, Limoux….

"Brother Obscura."

Lara's train of thoughts halted with a huge mental screech. "Brother Obscura?!" she blurted out.

"The Big Daddy himself," smirked Kurtis, his face adorning the familiar lopsided grin.

The mild shock subsided. "You really are disgusting, Kurtis. But pray, do continue."

"With pleasure," said Kurtis with a wink, his azure eyes dancing. Lara wanted to slap his arrogance out his mending body.

Trent merely continued. "Brother Obscura, already well known throughout the region as an expert exorcist – a sacred monk with unmatchable powers when it came to dealing with spirits. With the shards at his hand, he studied and recorded his findings extensively. It turns out that the shards could heal physically as well as spiritually – diseased mortal souls could be cured-"

"With mortal being the key word, I presume?" Lara cut in.

"Yes. But they had to be used in a specific manner – say, a certain technique. And always together. In his writings, he drew analogy to that of the image of the Christian God - the Trinity. Three aspects of God; three Shards, etcetera. Suffice it to say the Shards themselves were considered "holy" weapons – the gifts of God. As meteors often would be interpreted in the medieval culture."

"Tres periapti coniuncti cum iustitiae igne mala cingunt," Lara nodded spoke, recalling the Latin book in the library of the Vault of Trophies.

"The three Periapts joined together burn with righteous light to confine evil, exactly," Kurtis nodded as he translated.

Lara jotted down the information hurriedly.

"Though he was persuaded to "lend" these weapons to the military faction of the Knights Templar for the second Crusade – he refused, citing that these weapons had possibly a greater purpose that the holy war."

"Interesting…" Lara nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Templars, you say, as opposed to the Lux Veritatis… Weren't the Lux Veritatis active during the Second Crusade?"

"They were formed afterwards. The local Knight, Aicard, I believe, had heard some of the exaggerated tales of Big Daddy's adventures. He strived to seek him out, and deal with some of the fantasy-based elements the Knights were facing from the opposition during the Crusade from Jerusalem… "

"Define 'fantasy-based elements'."

"Diversionary war-tactics from expert Muslim alchemists."

Lara's eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise as she nodded, appreciative of the history.

"Alchemy, with all its philosophical and religious connotations was at its peak during this particular era…" she elaborated.

"Yes," nodded Kurtis, solemn. "What else to believe? Fight for the Holy Land. Seeing the supposed enemy attack and conjure up shapes and smoke at will and out of thin air. All this in addition to superior weaponry, detailed strategies. Soon there were talks of all kinds of 'wandering spirits' at large. Beginnings of early demonology, one can say. Throw imminent defeat into the mix and the Knights Templars, alongside other military factions, and the papal force had a helluva lot to think about."

"So where does Eckhardt come into all this? If I'm not wrong, the Lux Veritatis were operational approximately a century before Eckhardt ever reared his face in the scheme of things."

Kurtis' face turned grim. "You're wrong. Eckhardt's identity was confirmed only after countless missions into learning his true identity. For a greater portion of Brother Obscura's life, he was made to fight this shadow war, with unknown entities. The initial Cabal and Eckhardt preferred to go nameless at first."

"What's more scary than the absolute unknown, right?"

Kurtis only nodded in response.

"See, we had a Judas amongst us. Our very own double agent. The infamous ninth knight of the Lux Veritatis."

"How incredibly apt."

Kurtis gave a wry smile. "Reginaldus. Planted by the Order at first to gain inside information on the Cabal. He was to infiltrate the Cabal, learn their secrets – from ID to MO. Though he aided in identifying the culprits, Eckhardt discovered his treachery, and as chance of redemption, pun intended, offered him to join the Cabal."

"Know the exact dates?" Lara asked, hoping to form the traditional archaeologists' timeline-strategy to discover more.

"No. But this was around late 12th century. The Lux Veritatis had been operational since a few decades by then."

Lara fought to clamp down on a wave of annoyance at hearing this, and looked at the man in front of her. "I hope to every god and deity I have ever studied that you have actual books on all this you're telling me. We need more information on the Knights and their volumes to come up with a way to defeat the Nephilim for once and for all…"

Kurtis ignored her and harped on. It took seconds for the wave of annoyance to turn into a fiery streak of anger.

"Reggie was eventually hunted down and murdered by the Order eventually. Though he hadn't given away most of the Order's important secrets – he had helped Eckhardt in making the Sanglyph by providing him with some of the key elements of black alchemy essential to the project – betraying crucial, volatile allies of the Order during the process." Kurtis took a drink from his water bottle at this point. "Not that we had many to begin with," he said, offering a sheepish, unconcerned smirk.

"You never answered me," Lara's tone was carefully controlled.

The smirk morphed into a serious expression. "You have my word. But I can't get you the actual tomes."

"And why not?" Lara shot. "With all due respect, I think we're running a little late for exchanging folk tales, Kurtis. Unless we have actual books to elaborate on these, we've practically nothing on our hands!"

"It's my damn _history_, Lara," he returned, gritting his jaw.

"It's not enough!" She snapped the notebook shut and started pacing, her migraine returning with a renewed vengeance. "It's reason why I prefer working alone. My own way. Research always uncovers vital things that elude such short summaries-"

"I'm sure it does," Kurtis replied, managing a cool tone. "But we don't have _time_ to follow-up on all this… And since when did you start following conventional archaeology?"

_Ever since I found myself buried alive under a hundred tons of stone, with my chest caved in alongside thirty-seven other fractures, while scorpions and maggots fed off of my body as I tried to crawl toward a duct to avoid asphyxia._

Lara stopped pacing and sent him a deadly glare, half in shock of the truth she almost blurted out to the former Legionnaire. She had a feeling that Kurtis was hiding something.

"We need those books, Trent. Now."

Kurtis merely leaned back and let out a low sigh, as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

To Lara, it was a show of nonchalance. One that inadvertently pushed her over the edge, and into a thoughtless emotional meltdown.

Such rich history, such inspiring legacy – and this utter _fool_ of a man had the galls to run away from it all? And with no way to verify his story – to ascertain the facts, uncover more about the Order that could prove to be important…

"Yes, I am disgusting. You've made that crystal clear already, lady." It seemed as if Kurtis had almost read her thoughts.

Lara looked up – not sure why she felt like losing it completely. "Oh you have no _bloody_ idea what's going on in my mind right now, Trent."

Kurtis gave a bitter, snarly humph. "Sure. I know that look. But you, Croft - of all people, have no right giving me this-"

"You tell me, Trent!" she exclaimed, brown orbs crackling with fire. "Why are you not budging? Why?!"

"None of your goddamn business, Croft."

"Sure as hell it is!" she shot back, on the verge of shouting. "It became my damned business when I held Werner's mutated body! When I ran through sewers and faced psychopaths and murderers – so I could clear my name! So I could bloody _understand_ it all!" She pressed a finger to her chest and later, to her temple in a bid emphasise her point.

"Don't go there, Croft," he warned lowly, lips thinning into a grim line, eyes harsh. Muscles knotted in tension beneath Kurtis' jacket as he sat up – as if ready for a physical encounter.

Outside, the thunder crackled and roared as cold snow fell from the angry gray skies. It would have been the only sound in the motel room, had the last bit of Lara's patience not snapped seeing Kurtis' combative stance.

"Or what?!" she snarled back, getting up from the bed, notebook falling onto the covers. "What? You're going to send your little Frisbee at my throat? Because you've already forgotten the dozens that were slaughtered today thanks to _us_?! Because you weren't man enough to handle everything in the first place?! Because you fled and got your father killed?!"

The last straw.

In a lightning fast movement, Kurtis got up from the bed and flew at Lara, gripping her upper-arms, in a death-like grip that would leave dark bruises later on. She did not flinch, despite the dull ache that started developing in her arms. Instead, she looked up and met his glare with a lethal one of her own.

Yet she got a considerable shock at what she saw. Instead of murderous rage the raider had managed to hone into a weapon herself, she saw rawest of pain. From the midst of his slightly bloodshot, yet wholly tired eyes – it shone clear as day. His frustration poorly concealed it – and his dilated azure orbs flashed like that a wounded caged animal, reflecting his endless anguish.

The lamplight played shadows across his face – through furrowed brows- vertical anxiety lines, high cheekbones and stubble-adorned angular jaw. His mouth, drawn in snarled frown, his hands shook from the mere effort of not throwing her down and beating the pulp out of her right there and then without the slightest remorse.

"You," he breathed lowly, in her face, voice hoarse with rage that betrayed him - "don't know _half_ of it, woman!"

And in that single moment, Lara heard small whispers of her long-strangled conscience – as it brought a series of revelations that had her balking, internally.

_He's hurt. All along. He has always been hurt. It was his fuel; his only vice. He hates me. He hates himself. All along. The meager chance at redemption. It's what got him through one listless day after another. He couldn't help it, then. I can't help it, now. That pain. He doesn't deserve this. He thinks he does. I know. He hurts. Even now. That pain – too deep for words. I know. I know it. I know it, Kurtis, I know it all…_

"Just-stay-the-_hell_-away…" he growled viciously, a vein throbbing in the middle of his forehead.

She lowered her gaze, now only mildly aware of the pain in her arms. She felt nauseated. Sick of her rapier tongue and the blood it drew almost every time it struck. That one look had silenced her. Brought her own deeds in front of her. Easy to judge someone else's failings than look at your own. How many times had she killed for the mere sake of it? And what exactly did she know of forced responsibility? Of hiding in darkness all her life? Of being forced to grow up in a shadow war in which there were more martyrs than victors?

None.

Lara felt her shoulders knot in tension, her legs nearly give out, yet she could not bring her eyes up to his anymore.

The only mortal saviour of humanity, as she was sensationally dubbed – all, with absolutely none of her own.

He unhanded her that moment, and Lara retreated a step. The chirugai spun viciously behind Kurtis. The throbbing in her head and arms continued to pulse throughout her body, yet she still didn't look at him. It was only when he had crossed the room and stalked out of the door in a few lengthy strides that she snapped to the reality of it all.

Grasping the corner of the dresser, she let out a breath she never knew was holding.

Collapsing onto the chair, she put her head in her hands, resisting the urge to cry, pull her hair out, break everything in sight.

Werner. It wasn't odd to think immediately of him, even in such a situation. Ever since she stepped in this part of the continent, he had taken over her mind like the worst of demons.

Werner – had been one of the only two people who had ever come back for her. Ever. Who had seen past her barriers and airs and sensed the true spirit of her being. Whether training her for field archaeology, or giving pieces of the history to lure her into an agreeable mood.

Kurtis Trent and Werner von Croy may not have been cut from the same cloth. But to her, they were an enigma – sometimes friend, sometimes foe; sometimes mentor, sometimes competitor.

But always there, with her and for her. In their own distinct ways.

Needless to say when Kurtis walked out, it was like losing von Croy all over again.

* * *

><p>'<em>Son of a goddamn bitch!'<em> Kurtis thought furiously to himself as he kicked a stray Pepsi can, still shaking from his heated argument with Lara. Zipping up his jacket, he stalked forward in the dead of winter on the deserted streets.

If there was anybody watching him, they'd think he had a death wish. And that wouldn't be far from the truth. The nylon jacket did little to block out the blistery cold winds – and underneath Kurtis was naked waist-up, apart from his cotton bandages.

But his hot-head was enough to fuel him as he stubbornly walked forward, aching jaw clamped angrily and hands stuffed beneath the armpits for warmth.

'_How dare she- and all for a few freaking dusty scrolls?!'_

For a moment, all Kurtis saw was blood-red. The streets, the lamplights, the road – all bathed in deep crimson that he wished for a moment, belonged to Lara.

Then it was gone.

Leaning back against a streetlamp, he closed his eyes shut and let the thoughts run free for a while. Yes, Lara Croft was renowned for her thorough, brilliant work. Yes, she was an ultimate bitch to work with. One with _no_ sense of filtering what to say and what to keep to oneself.

But she was hardly ever far from the truth.

The telephone booth was hardly three feet away from him. He knew he'd been stalling that single phone call since the past three years. And now it had come back to bite him in the ass at the worst of times. It wasn't about a few old books at all. She had sensed it, and he could tell.

But that did not entail he be not annoyed at her tenacity that was almost suffocating. Or her scathing words that cut a layer too deep.

Far too deep.

He exhaled a puff of vapour - the epitome of calm rage.

Those damned books. They had been his undoing then, they will be his undoing now.

But, hell; even he knew she was right, to a very limited extent.

Sauntering over, Kurtis entered the phone booth – dully noticing the vulgar pictures of naked Czech girls adorning the device.

Filth like him walked everywhere these days, he thought wryly to himself. Before prioritizing the task at hand.

One step at a time. Now that he was here, in the marginally warm booth, he should pick the receiver.

Good. Revise the number mentally, then swipe the card.

Done. Now dial the damned number. And then, talk.

The line was picked up within three rings – and once he was patched through, he found himself absolutely dumbfounded. As if iron bands were wound on his neck that prevented him from breathing or speaking. As the recipient cleared their throat politely, he felt images rush through his mind's eye. From a perceptive child, to a teenage rebel, then to a mercenary… and then, to a mere nobody.

His voice though thick with emotion, surprisingly was clear.

"Maria… It's me."

* * *

><p>Whew! Glad that is over! You've reached this far, meaning you've survived this snooze-fest of a chapter (Honestly, I didn't even feel like rechecking it. Pardon any mistakestypos!)

Who the hell is Maria?! XD

Haha.. I'm gonna have fun with that :D

Still pretty surprised at how long it took me to write this. In my defence, I had quite a few interesting ideas popping up in my head. But somehow, I've been having problems translating them in a manner that they flow with the storyline. I've a 400-word piece written and ready – Lara's memory of Egypt, that I really, badly wanted to use – but it just couldn't fit anywhere :/

Nevertheless, hope you all liked the emotional bit. Took a risk there, but to the plot, I felt it was relevant. I wanted Lara to meltdown, and frankly I wrote the "Frisbee" bit keeping in mind Lara's "pussycat" comment to Bouchard in the game (the one that gets her killed). So hopefully not too much OOC there. But do let me know what you feel about her and Kurtis' emotional onslaughts. I intend to tie it all significantly in the story – and I'd love to hear it from you all.

Mysterious lady wasn't the focus in this chapter. Though she's upto something too! I wanted to give her a break but jeez… She's one crazy woman! :p Though on a serious note, I felt it would be better to look at her from another person's POV for a change. Had fun writing about her there… But I won't be doing this bit too often, lest it confuses the reader.

I've experimented with a couple of writing styles so far – found this to be the most comfortable form of writing. It all comes very clearly to me – the words and phrases come very lucidly (English isn't my mother tongue, so I keep these tidbits in mind)… Hope you guys are happy with this. I think this history lesson should last a few chapters at least :)

**Next chapter:** I'd say it would definitely bring more action, a bit of drama and a whole lot of scary! Hopefully, though scary isn't my forte! But until then, adios amigos! Do let me know what you think of this… As always, any criticisms, or advice, just review and let me know. Many thanks! Enjoy! :)


	8. Burning

Hi everybody! What an eventful day for an update :P

Again - many, many thanks to** wyverndragon, nemesis, Ferilium** and **isaalacrymosaa** for your amazingly encouraging reviews! I am so glad you like the updates so far, and sincerely hope you guys enjoy this chap too! =) *sends cookies/brownies/cupcakes/everything-sweet-your-way* =)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the plot!

Without any further ado..

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><p><strong>RETURN OF DARKNESS<strong>

**CHAPTER 7: BURNING**

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><p><em>Salt Lake City, Utah<em>

_3:12 pm_

It was a perfectly ordinary day. The kind that left no significant imprint on one's memory as they fell into their daily routine. Which was perfectly fine with Marie; it would distract her from the burden she had always carried.

As per her routine, Marie had faithfully retired to her bed at 11pm the night before, after a simple meal and an intense hour of watching the news and reading the evening paper. In the morning, she had her customary toast and coffee, after which she left for her day-job, and barely made it in time for her morning class. Beneath the shabby exterior of an aging lecturer in the local university, Marie had carefully concealed her past – letting herself be the widow of a senior paralegal in some international law firm, and the mother of a young entrepreneur trying to break even somewhere in Europe.

In her early sixties, Marie was much fitter than majority of her demographic. Or even youngsters, these days. Trim, and strong; she ate well, went on long walks and kept herself alert and active. Age had only added more charm to her countenance. Apart from the gray hair, it brought wrinkles to the sides of her mouth and neck. Recently people had begun to notice slight crow's feet around eyes that still dazzled and shone like a clear blue summer sky.

Coming home from the university, she treated herself to a small home-made lunch, before settling in with the morning paper she had ignored in her hurry.

But on this seemingly ordinary day, she was in for a horrific sight. As was everybody with access to world news.

The Monstrum had struck again – this time, in a Czech hospital.

The place was worse than a war-zone. Dead bodies had been desecrated, organs ripped out and unknown writings slathered onto the halls. 50 or so people had been slaughtered.

The only patient unaccounted for was some young American man in his thirties, as per the paper. Name of Kurtis Trent.

Kurtis. Trent.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw a small picture of her son from the newspaper - taken through a security camera in Prague. Konstantine's rugged face with her azure eyes, stared back at her, annoyed.

A small, breathy gasp tore from her throat as she pressed the newspaper to her chest. It had been thirteen years since she had laid her eyes on her only son. Thirteen long years - during which he had barely called and never wrote back. Years ago, Konstantine had gotten in touch with her – confirmed that he had tracked down their son, whose wild streak now flourished as he was involved in mercenary-work and contract-killing. He still refused to listen. Refused to return.

And on this not-so-ordinary day, there he was, in the morning news – said to be recuperating from a serious stab wound that nearly shattered his spine and a shotgun-bullet graze that had taken a chuck of flesh out clean from his shoulder. Staring at her from the print. Missing in action. Just like his father…

_My son…_

The blare of the telephone broke Marie from the reverie. In a second, she was up, wiping away the tears she never registered falling as she made her way toward the telephone.

She inhaled a calming breath before she picked up the receiver.

"Cornel residence."

"Maria… It's me…"

Her first thought was of Konstantine. Only he had called her Maria – a familiar tease, aimed her part Hispanic, part Native American roots.

But that wasn't possible. Konstantine was dead. This deep, throaty voice – so familiar… So much like her husband's… Was it… Could it be?

She gasped as realization dawned upon her.

"Kurtis?!" Fresh tears rolled out of her eyes as she stumbled into a nearby chair. Her heart raced and she felt her breathing stop in anticipation. "Is it…?"

He cleared his throat to cut her off. There was hesitation in his voice. "It's me, Maria…" he repeated once more. "I uhh… How've you been?"

Marie simply closed her eyes and leaned back. Hearing from her son. His voice. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, she felt a wave of motherly love wash over her. And all she wanted at that moment, was to hold her son… and hear him drawl "mother" again…

But she was well aware of the Order's security protocols. It was the reason why Kurtis never referred to her through their actual relation in telephonic conversations. It was what she reminded herself before stamping down on her maternal yearnings.

"You there?" the telephonic voice spoke, concerned.

"Okay… I've been okay, I guess… and yourself?" she felt stupid asking the question, considering what she just read.

"I'll live…"

The conversation was obviously more awkward for him, than for her. She could imagine his furrowed eyebrows and see him pinching his nose in frustration as to continue the dialogue. It is funny how a mother feels no such confusions or hesitations during such reunions.

"I don't recognize the number…"

"You wouldn't… I'm calling from a phone booth, in Prague… Listen, I uhh… need something. To ask you something."

Marie nodded. He need not say anymore. Order business. "I understand perfectly, Kurtis."

There was a long pause. Marie knew he was thinking up some absurd code to get the message across to her. Fact was, Kurtis calling up out of the blue, with the recent Monstrum attack and his survival in the Strahov, it ought to be something of utmost importance.

He cleared his throat.

"Books to the ceiling, Books to the sky. My pile of books is a mile high. How I love them. How I need them. I'll have a long beard by the time I read them."

His recital was utterly monotone. Had the situation been different, Marie would have roared with laughter at the image of her rugged, young son belching out a child's rhyme.

Kurtis had never been interested in his books, ever.

But the situation was what it unfortunately was, and what he had wanted was now perfectly clear.

He needed the Order's ancient scripts.

Her heart twisted in bittersweet pain, when she realized that he had used his father's preferred method of encryption; poetry.

Guessing the name of the poet or author would imply a positive response. Stumbling over the verses would mean a negative. Konstantine and Marie had exchanged many a secrets using this cryptic method – dancing the eternal dance of literature.

"Arnold Lobel… I never knew you had an affinity for children's books." Affirmative. She still had all the volumes and scripts with her.

"Perhaps," he gave a light laugh before continuing. "Hear this: _It is the desert wind that gives effect,_ _to the stroke of the brave youth in is not that I am hungry for pigeon and dove -_ _Renunciation is the mark of an eagle's life -"_

Marie's eyebrows shot upwards in appreciation, this time around. Desert Wind. Eagle. Flight.

"Allama M. Iqbal." Confirmation. She would send them by air.

"Hmm… You remember your poets…" she could picture him smiling a warm half-smile at that.

"And you their works – who'd ever imagine your inner romantic?"

They both shared a small laugh at that. Marie's spirits soared at re-establishing a vacillating bond with her son, after all these years.

"I miss you, Kurtis… You should visit sometime," every fiber of her being wished for a positive reply to this.

"Me too, Maria… It's been quite a while…" followed by a small, careful laugh.

"Amen…"

"I uhh… Jeeesus Christ!…" she heard an instant dread in his tone, and she immediately felt a chill despite her warm living room.

"Kurtis- what-"

"I'll call you back, Maria… Take care." And with that the line went dead.

Marie knew it was trouble as she hung up. The deaths of Eckhardt and the Cabal hadn't been enough. The Monstrum attack only confirmed her worst fears. The threat still loomed at large. She did not know what her son was up to, but after all these years, she was simply glad – to see him defeat the enemy that had taken so much from her. From him.

And at this time, simple emotions were all that she could process.

Marie called up at the university and cancelled the lectures that were scheduled for her for the entire week.

* * *

><p><em>Prague, Czech Republic<em>

_11:28 pm_

It had been nice, overall, Kurtis mused. Not so bad, really…

Frankly, he had never imagined he'd succeed in communicating the way he did with his mother. Words, he realized, and with a cringe, _poetry_ seemed to flow out from his lips as if he had done it all his miserable life. Surprises, surprises.

Nevertheless, it was coming along all just fine and dandy. Until, he had turned in the booth, receiver held to his ear hearing his mother pine for him through her silence, and seen angry flames roaring and crackling to life in a small building less than half a block away.

The motel.

He felt an oath slip from his lips before he even realized he was talking to his mother. But from the moment he saw the fire, he could hardly string a decent thought together, let alone carry on a conversation. Lara's acid words, her harsh accusations and his consequential rage at her dissolved with the sound of the whistling wind in his uncovered ears as he sprinted with a single notion in mind. To simply see the damned woman to safety. He could always hate himself later for it; experience dictated that he usually did.

But for now - all he knew was that he had to get to Lara.

Though the distance was of a mere few hundred metres, he felt as if a black-hole of dread had opened up in the middle of his chest – sucking every legible thought and emotion into it's black nothingness.

It was not long before he reached the entrance of the motel – now nothing but a massive ball of fire. The entrance was hued in orange and red, with flames dancing over what had been the reception area.

He scanned the few people standing outside the building, and those who were rushing for cover, for the familiar brunette. With disinterest bordering on rudeness, he ignored the receptionist and pushed aside the housekeeper as they raised hell themselves, frantic and panic-stricken.

As if entrapped in the mind of a stranger, Kurtis mentally calculated the time till the building collapsed with crystal clear objectivity. From his limited knowledge on structural engineering, he could tell the foundation was not as damaged yet – and the building should hold on till a few more hours. Undoubtedly, the flames were only likely to spread. Provided there will be nothing else to accelerate the burning itself, he should have enough time to search the building and rescue Lara – that is, if she hasn't already jumped down three floors and broken her spine trying to escape-

BANG!

An explosion resounded through the air, as the top two floors caved in on themselves. He instinctively took a small step back as the earth beneath him shook in the aftermath of the explosion, as the tensed cries and murmurings of the people outside morphed into frightened shrieks.

There was nothing accidental about this fire. It was deliberately aimed at him or Lara, probably both. It was the sound of the explosion that summed it all up. A sound he knew all too well.

"C4…" Kurtis whispered to himself, eyes widening.

It was only when a screaming man, his form nothing more than a mere silhouette amidst the bright flames that engulfed him, ran out from the building like a pitiful human torch that Kurtis stepped out from his reverie.

_Goddamn it, woman! Where are you?_

Apart from that, he was far from any semblance of rational thinking.

Placing two fingers to his temple, he mentally forged a small force-field around himself as he ran straight into the heart of the inferno and bellowed out Lara's name as hard as he could.

And when he was met with nothing except the searing heat, humming flames and pitch black smoke around him, he felt a very real sense of terror – liquid and as cold as ice, trickle down from between his shoulders all the way down to his spine.

_Lara…_

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere along the Austrian-German border<em>

_11:32pm_

She was losing her mind.

The chartered double-container carrier was destined to be nothing more than gray ashes. She lay crouched on her haunches in the dark, illuminated by the occasional crackle of lightning from the severed power cable, painting her silhouette an ominous bright blue. She revelled in the bloody glory of today's mission. She could not suppress the heartless half-smile that graced her features, nor the solitary tear that rolled from her eye.

Seeing something go up in flames would never bring such delirious joy to her, in all her twenty-two years of life. And for a small moment, she was honestly afraid of her own thoughts; of the downright monster she had become.

But the moment passed and the sheer, bloody joy came back again. She clenched her eyes tightly shut and grinded her jaw.

She was definitely losing her mind.

The murky blood of those mutant abominations ran rivers from her forearms and hands, gathering into puddles on the metallic floor of the container. Shards of the glass-baths used to nurture the creatures crunch beneath her feet. An eerie hum resonated throughout, as the vile stench of death hung heavy in the air.

The howls and cries of the abominations responsible for the hospital massacre were long since dealt with. The souls of the innocent can finally rest in peace.

She stood up, walked toward the slide door, and opened it. The whip of freezing wind across her face refreshed her, as she watched the snowy fields ahead come into focus.

Though she frowned in disappointment, confused as to how she managed to lose track of her target – the mercenary head who authorized the slaughtering of innocent civilians. Martin Gunderson.

It was _his_ throat she had wanted to slit so bad, she almost fantasized about it. Before being torn in fear and hatred of her own self.

She fished for a contraption in her trouser pocket, a remote control device. When she had walked a decent distance, she pressed it – blowing the container and its contents behind to smithereens without as much as a final glance.

As she walked away from the burning inferno, she felt the warmth from the fire on her back, as it melted the snow on the ground in its vicinity. It would take Captain Nicol Heinrich to reach the area in about 45 seconds. If everything goes well, he would be catapulted to honour within his ranks for stopping what could have possibly been another Monstrum deadly attack, somewhere in Germany. Her university pals, both the Captain and his lovely fiancée Lisa would hopefully have nothing to regret from this. The thought warmed her heart for about two seconds, before the winter-cold set in again.

35 seconds, now and counting. It was her cue to leave.

Mounting the bike, she sped off on the snowy field, long before anybody could even think of putting the pieces together, and figuring out her role in this grisly hell of a mess.

* * *

><p><em>Prague, Czech Republic.<em>

_11:34 pm_

Kurtis' nicotine-lined lungs could only bear so much strain. Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, he burst into another round of coughs where he almost retched his lungs out. Sweat dripping down his nose, with precious oxygen levels precariously low, and weary with sudden exhaustion, Kurtis' extraordinary limits were stretched to the maximum. The visibility issue had been overcome thanks to his spiritual vision – the thick black smoke and soot continued to make a barbecue out of him, but at least, in his mind's eye, he could navigate around.

But then, there was always the nagging fear at the back of his mind of being blown to smithereens, should another round of C4s go off on this very floor. A fear that he continued to suppress in that dark little corner of his mind over which he never particularly liked to ponder upon.

Gritting his teeth, he climbed up the final flight of stairs onto the second floor - where he and Lara had shared many an argument since their arrival that morning. With the C4s taking out most of the fourth and fifth floors, the third floor directly above him had almost caved in on itself, adding undue pressure onto the foundations of the second floor. This structural concern, in addition to everything in sight being taken over by red-hot flames was enough to fray his steely nerves.

Determined even further, he jogged over the debris and mentally banished the flames from nearing his countenance as he made his way toward the very room where they had had their meager last meal.

Their own final supper. How bloody ironic.

"LARA!" he bellowed as he burst into the room, trying to stay alive himself. The fierce hum of the roaring fire met his ears as he strained to listen to the slightest sound indicating the raider's presence.

Taking a step inside, he felt a jolt of shock barely register. Scrawled on the walls, as if with claws, that had torn down plaster and bits of the dry-wall with it, was the Nephilic writing. The same as it was at hospital.

_'At least there's no blood…'_

Trying his best to ignore the wave of nausea that suddenly racked him, he moved forward – in a bid to examine the writings in the bright firelight, and was at once distracted by a shadow. Glancing ahead of him, he saw the familiar brown eyes, now wide chocolate splashes in her pale, thin face.

Lara shouted something, which he did not understand, and signaled him to come to the balcony – miraculously saved from the flames.

Kurtis ran through the open window – the glass shattered from the C4 long ago - and joined the raider. The cold blistery wind and peaceful snow were welcome from the blazing inferno – but they were far from safety even then.

Kurtis leaned back upon the railing, trying to catch his breath back and calculating the distance to the ground, the bitterness of their previous encounter lost somewhere in the orange flames that licked the room. He took inhaled the cold air deeply. Three floors. No problem for him, hopefully. But for Lara…

He glanced her way, as he exhaled his breath in a cloud of fog. Clad in tattered dark jeans and a brown sweater, she'd had enough time to don her woolen coat and finger-cut gloves, and throw in her belongings in an equally tattered backpack. He took in the strain in her shoulders and tensed stance that had nothing to do with the fire at hand, but from her earlier lashing.

He saw the deep regret in her eyes which she pathetically tried to hide.

Lara Croft – tough as nails, rapier-tongued, uncommonly intelligent with goddess-like beauty – had never seemed more human. So prone to breaking.

And in that moment, though he would never ever acknowledge it until he felt like it, Kurtis forgave her. That damned woman.

She gulped before beginning. "You-shouldn't-have-"

He held up a hand to cut her off.

"Don't waste anymore time, woman." He inwardly winced at his own coldness.

Lara merely set her jaw, met his eyes steadily and nodded. In a swift motion, she had vaulted over the railing and was now using the drainpipe to make her way down.

Kurtis suppressed a rueful smile as he watched her go.

Leaning his legs against the railing, he pushed himself back and felt the wind rush in his ears and hair as he fell below, in an obviously familiar manner. Though he mentally strained and controlled his fall, it seemed as effortless as it did in Paris.

With a half-somersault in midair, he landed on his feet in a short few seconds. He found himself at the back of the hotel, with a vast expanse of plain concrete that resembled more like a snow field than the industrial area that it was.

Only the heat of the burning building at his back gave indication of anything out of normal. Apart from that, soft snow fell on top of the looming structures in the most hauntingly peaceful fashion.

He whipped back to check on Lara as she made her way down. As fast and as carefully as she could, the raider nimbly moved, often using protruding bricks and window ledges as handholds. Blinking red and beeping dangerously at the base of the second and ground floors were packets of strapped C4s, each at the corner of the building, ticking time away perilously.

Lara was barely a foot below the line of the planted C4s on the second floor when they went off. A solid boom shook the entire structure and the ground beneath. Somewhere behind them, the siren of the fire-truck could be heard.

"LARA!" Kurtis bellowed as he watched her hang helplessly from one hand, desperately trying to seek support for the other. There was only one set of the explosives left – to decimate the entire structure. And now, it could go off any second.

She felt dust rain down on her face and neck – but as the top floors folded into themselves, she soon lost her grip and found herself falling back first.

She felt a scream escape her lungs.

Halfway through the fall, she felt distinctly warm despite the freezing weather, as if being embraced tightly. Not knowing what exactly carried her, she felt a hazy warm wind direct her entire body toward the ground and away from the structure.

She had been lowered onto the ground safely – by Kurtis' telekinesis she realized – barely in the nick of time. Before she could hit the ground, Kurtis grabbed her arms and laid her back on the ground, before crawling on top of her body himself.

Their faces inches apart, hot spastic breaths intermingling and whispering down their necks. Both were slick with sweat and soot – and despite their position, the foul odour of death and danger hung heavy and suffocating.

As if acting on premonition, Kurtis gently cupped the back of her skull with his hand and eased her face into the crook of his neck and collarbone, shielding her face.

In a frighteningly loud boom, the final set of explosives went off. The ground shook menacingly, and with a few strained groans, the five-floored motel behind them finally collapsed – burying alive at least 5 civilians whose skin and flesh had melted off long before the fire was put out.

Kurtis continued to shield her from the raining debris with his much-abused body, grunting occasionally. Lara, unaccustomed to such chivalry, made fists at the front of his jacket, closed her eyes shut and shook viciously with blind fury at the tragedy of it all.

* * *

><p>Wowie! Hope I was able to make this work! Again, thanks for reading – do let me know what you think of this! =) Enjoy guys - and happy holidays! =)<p> 


	9. Survival

**Hello everyone! I'm back with a long update :)**

I've had nearly two months to read and redo this chapter.. Quite a lot is going on in my life right now - with university starting soon I'm really hoping I find enough time to keep updating this...

My round of thank-yous, of course, to my lovely reviewers (I've decided to answer reviews at the beginning of the chapters - I lose track of PMs!)

**Ferilium**: Many thanks for your kind words! I'm glad you liked that phonecall - that part was very difficult to write, from Kurtis' perspective and all.. Hope you enjoy this as well!

**Nemesis**: Thank you so much for that lengthy review! And by all means, you should go ahead and write an AOD fic - believe me we can never have enough of those! And I share most of your views too esp. about Kurtis! Hopefully, some of your questions would be answered in this chapter! :)

**isaalacrymosaa: **Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you liked Lara and Kurtis' reactions in the chapter.. However I believe you're a little mistaken - Nicol was just a German army captain - done and dusted with... The ID of the mystery lady will become clear by the end of this chapter.. Hopefully this should answer all your questions :) Let me know what you think of this! :)

Also, I realised that **AngelOfDarkness Michelle, bad-boy-kurtis **and **AngelinaCroft** have read and favourited this story.. Many, many thanks to you guys - although I'd love it if you'd drop me a review and let me know what you think of this and how I'm faring as well! :)

*hands out cookies/pudding/brownies/anything-sweet-to-everybody*

Before I start this chapter - let me just say that it may come across as a slightly boring one - but is essential to the plot of the story.. Also, I've tried my best at capturing Lara and Kurtis in their true characters, so do let me know what you think of them..

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to their respective owners... And what's mine is mine :p

* * *

><p><strong>RETURN OF DARKNESS<strong>

**CHAPTER 8: SURVIVAL**

* * *

><p>Airplanes. An old foe of the famed raider, with plenty more bite than bark. Not flying in particular, nor helicopters.<p>

Just airplanes.

Whether they were commercial carriers or any of the four jets currently part of the Croft estate. She had hated them as a child, still not too far on her favourites list as a teenage student, and after the planecrash in the Himalayas concluding an ill-fated ski-trip, she abhorred the prospect of airplanes.

But the adventurer's disdain over air travel wasn't even the last thing on her mind when she boarded her Gulfstream a little past midnight with her battered backpack and moody comrade.

Exhausted after witnessing a day of bloodshed followed by more bloodshed, Lara quietly welcomed Kurtis onto the plane. Zip, ever so efficient, had arranged for the private jet to arrive on a small Czech airfield within three hours of the attack at the motel. Lara did not even have to ask him; when she telephoned him, from the same booth Kurtis had used to call his mother, he had already notified her of her flight's status. Lara had greatly appreciated the thought.

Another two hours and before the crack of dawn, they would be arriving at Surrey. At the deathly-still, centuries-old mammoth mansion of a house she deemed home.

The thought did nothing to appease the raider of the tight knot in her stomach.

Kurtis grunted his thanks and moved in. His meagre few possessions included his wallet, complete with his fake IDs, passport, Chirugai and his gun that Lara handed to him earlier at the motel.

He settled himself away from Lara, indicating not-so-subtly that he had not forgotten about her earlier words. The impression was made, but Lara was too tired to come up with a comeback – with at least 55 civilians dead within a day in attacks aimed obviously toward the duo, she was already dealing with much more than what she had bargained for.

She closed her eyes, and the past three weeks passed in front of her eyes in a whirlwind of flashes - Werner's broken glasses, the blood on her hands, the Obscura paintings, Bouchard, the Nephilim's sign engraved on Karel's palm and the Sanglyph, a pair of piercing blue eyes that spoke volumes even when accompanied with an unreadable expression.

Throwing a glance at Kurtis, she pitifully realised that he did not even have any decent clothes to wear. He was clad in his ancient green combat trousers, torn bandages and a dark, bloodied jacket "stolen" from one of the dead security guards at the hospital. No undershirt. The entire day, he had battled – with her and alongside her, in freezing temperatures almost half-naked and still recovering from the ordeal at the Strahov. Presently, he sat with his legs stretched onto the seat in front of him, eyes closed, one arm folded over his abdomen and the other pinching the bridge of his nose in deep thought.

The picture of a tragic hero. She was surprised at how flawlessly he managed to pull it off, every time.

Out of the blue, she recalled how the demon hunter had gently embraced her as they lay on the ground, shielded her, held her as if she meant the whole world to him.

She swallowed another bitter bout of guilt. She should not have blamed him for his father's death. Period.

Making a mental note of getting him a new wardrobe, Lara pondered over how she could make amends with the Lux Veritatis.

_'__Wonderful,__' _she thought, unamused_. 'Just the perfect diversion from reliving the plane-crash memories from all those years ago.' _

In no mood for immediate conversation, Lara's stomach began some uncomfortable flips as the Gulfstream eased off the runway and into the air in almost careless abandon. Luckily, the pilot already had his orders.

Lara wanted to vomit.

Simply perfect.

* * *

><p>It was hard for Kurtis to completely ignore Lara. Even with his eyes closed shut, he could feel her eyes on him; unnerving, apologetic. Although not an empath and only borderline telepathic, he could feel the anxiety radiating from her. From God knows what part of him, he felt the need to comfort her and chase her demons away.<p>

But from a side he was more comfortable and familiar with, he wanted her to suffer a bit. Familiar because he was so used to revelling in bitterness, he seldom felt any other emotion. Comfortable, because hating Lara should, theoretically, deflect him from feeling some of the deeper and more dangerous emotions he seemed to be harbouring exclusively for her. However temporary the deflection was.

Damn.

Before the crises that struck today, he had spent a wonderfully pleasant two weeks with her as he recuperated. Discussion upon the events of the Strahov had been deliberately ignored then - they knew their time together was short, thereby it went unannounced that it be agreeable.

He unclenched his jaw and let out a slow breath. The smell of burnt wood and smoke seemed to emanate from him - and the image of the burning man and the nurse's head being ripped off clean from her shoulders seemed to play on endless loop in his mind.

How the Proto returned was absolutely beyond him. How it died an even bigger mystery. What the scrawlings meant, who orchestrated these attacks - everything went from confusing to more confusing, until he could not stand it anymore.

He was glad Lara indirectly made him ask for those books. He hated how she had resorted to a harsh personal attack to make her point, but that phonecall was long overdue. His screwed-up ancestors must have written _something_ to ease their current misery.

They were in the air since about half an hour now. Despite the luxurious setting, he felt like crap. Boaz's lovebite had begun to throb since the motel. Now it was a dull pain that annoyed more than it hurt.

He _pretended _to ignore her. But did not imagine for how long he would have to pretend doing so; they couldn't possibly save humanity from imminent doom from the measly forty euros he currently had to his name.

Hell, he can't even afford a pair of decent jeans with forty euros in hand!

So immersed was the ex-Legionnaire in the wry hilarity of his financial turmoil, he hardly noticed Lara clear her throat.

_'Here it comes,' _he thought sarcastically to himself.

"Listen," she began, voice strained. "I never got around to thanking you for coming back for me. Although entirely unnecessary and rash. But uhh... It.. It meant..."

She paused, unable to continue. From her shame, or her own anger at her shame, she couldn't discern.

"It meant nothing." He didn't like the way he stared ahead with no eye contact when he said it, but truth be told, Kurtis was just too pissed to act noble. His tone could have cut through concrete.

"Well, to me it did, and-"

"Shut up, Croft."

Lara was too stunned to speak for a second, but then she rose to the challenge, her tone the type of calculated calm that one uses normally to reason with a child. The kind that inadvertently sends an adult over the edge.

"Look, we're both stressed, exhausted and we haven't a damn clue as to what the bloody hell is going on right now. I said some things that I shouldn't have earlier and-"

"That honestly the best you could come up with?" Kurtis lips were curled in a sneer and he still gazed straight ahead.

He could tell Lara was counting to ten mentally. He knew he was pushing it now, and should cut it out.

But...

Oh, what the hell. Its not like he had a lot of self respect to begin with, so what's losing a little more?

"You know what? You're right. That is the best I could do as of now. So ... Sorry," Lara's voice sounded as if she was physically in pain.

Kurtis would have liked to think he was enjoying himself. Truth was, in some part foreign to his being, he was aware he was hurting as well. He just wanted to move on.

"Won't happen again," she ended, lowly and forcedly through grounded jaws.

Kurtis grunted his reply, not caring whatever message that might spend. She had apologised, however awkward that might be. He had forgiven her a considerable time before that. Whatever she said, she struck his most sensitive nerve, an issue he still hadn't ever sorted through properly.

As much as he hated himself, he had come to realise he had loved Konstantine all along in some crazy, unimaginable way. Maybe his betrayal had killed him, maybe it hadn't. But wherever Konstantine was, Kurtis knew he would approve of him right now, as he pathetically tried to piece this crumbling mess back together.

He never allowed himself to think otherwise. Never.

But despite their efforts, the shadow war was still raging. And innocents were dying. If there was anyone else on the entire planet apart from him who could save this world, it was her. His unresolved paternal issues had to wait. There was too much at stake.

"Truce," he voiced quietly.

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere in the outskirts of Munich, Germany<em>

4 days. 3 hours of sleep. 55 civilians dead.

And counting.

She had fuelled herself on coffee and nerves these past few days. And even after the exhausting events of the day, she deliberately denied her self any semblance of slumber. No matter how much her eyelids burned and watered, or the pounding in her head escalated, or her muscles and nerves screamed for a breather.

_I will not sleep._

She was beginning to get sick of this mantra.

Sitting on a creaky chair the dingy motel room she rented for the night, she convulsively arranged her belongings in a neat pattern over and over. Her body was aching in areas she never knew existed, and she knew sleep deprivation was in fact, a torture of the body. But in a battle for sanity or respite, she chose sanity. She couldn't bear to live through those nightmares again.

But now, could her displaying the signature symptoms of OCD, get even more ironic? And how long exactly before post-traumatic stress, combat fatigue and eventually depression set in? If she survived, maybe throw in some survivor's guilt?

She was after all, just a human.

_'__Insanity. Leave me be__,'_ she tried willing it away. Didn't work.

What is real, what is unreal. What happens when reality is so terrifying, it seems unreal? And when you slip into dreams, the true unrealism continues? What happens to the mind when it cannot discern reality from unreality?

What happens to reality when it is eventually defined by unreality?

The text and books she had opened hours ago swam in front of her eyes, and she knews she could not process anything for now. These unanswerable questions were her only defence; she had to keep those hallucinations at bay. Those seemingly harmless hallucinations from lack of sleep, where her nightmares bleed into frightening actuality before her eyes as she's wide awake. Wide awake.

She glances at the time on her cellphone. It's 4:12am.

When reality and unreality merge into single ugly monster she simply cannot outrun..

_Run... Running__..__. Oh, to simply run away..__I am so... Very tired.. _

Her mind shuts down for a while - she knows it as she registers the blank vaccum where only moments ago, existential dilemmas were richocheting off the walls like no one's business.

She's awake, but she gives into the blankness for a moment.

A break is exactly what her mind needed. But not the kind she was in for.

* * *

><p>The weight lifted from her chest as soon as the words were out. The nausea eased a bit, and after what felt like a lifetime, Lara relaxed. A verbal truce had been established. Probably the only positive of the day.<p>

"There is a prophecy," Kurtis said, breaking the silence unexpectedly. It was then he turned to face her, with a soft, troubled expression.

Lara instantly fished out Werner's notebook and got to writing. "Go on."

"An inscription, carved on a site considered a... kind of a mass graveyard for the Nephilim. Occitan was the one who stumbled across it first - Reginaldus, using Occitan's descriptions and his knowledge of the Alchemist's works gave more structure to it. Somewhere in either Syria or Anatolia.. can't remember exactly..."

"Why is this Reginaldus so important, as opposed to the other knights?"

"Primarily because his work was multi-dimensional. His travels and writings were most extensive and detailed. Aligning himself with the Cabal, he leaked important plans of the Cabal, before falling for Eckhardt's ideals himself. Afterwards, no other member had played double agent as well as him. The Order, though hurt by his betrayal, always valued the information he provided."

Lara digested this for a while before asking again.

"Was the inscription in the same writing as the ones found on the Monstrum crime scenes?"

Kurtis frowned in thought. "A much more ancient form, but yes it's the same language. My father could read through Nephilic like the morning paper, but me..." he shook his head dismissively. " I never stuck around long enough learn it myself."

Lara nodded slowly.

"The basics of translating it are in some of the scripts, we'll get them soon enough."

"I suppose you don't remember what the inscription said?"

Kurtis paused, and recalled. "It was a curse upon humanity. A curse of the Fallen. Spoke how the Nephili would be reborn in shadow. From amongst rivers of blood, bloody skies, they watch and wait. It affirmed that they will arise. They will be the darkness, the destroyers. The Watchers. They will hunt down the Traitors. And they will eradicate the Beacon. Breed hell on earth. All that crap. You've probably had your share of it over the years."

Lara swallowed and felt iron bands of dread clamp her chest. She definitely had had her share of ancient prophecies, but none had translated onto reality with such defining horror.

"They just can't give us a break, can they?" Lara asked, mind faraway - picturing the inscription in some forgotten cavern in the middle of a nameless desert.

Kurtis cracked a wry smirk. "And this isnt even the worst part. Our powers are such that they have strengthened throughout generations of the Order, developing through bloodline, over the centuries. The DeCombel bloodline manifested most of telekinetic and mental strength, but there was some clairvoyance as well. Somewhere mixed in along my ancestry."

Lara balked at the revelation. "And... You're saying you're psychic? You can..." She arched an eyebrow skeptically, "... confirm the curse?"

Kurtis broke eye contact, almost regretting mentioning this. "I'm not a true clairvoyant, Lara. I don't get visions or whatnot. But my father always thought my uhh.. So-called " experiences" with demonic spirits with the Order, in the Legion, and my nightmares all led to something much more sinister..."

"And I assume there has been a single recurring nightmare that has always plagued you all your life, that effectively, puts everything into perspective?"

Kurtis shook his head slowly. "I wish it was as simple as that, Lara..." He trailed off into a long pause.

* * *

><p><em>She<em>_ i__s in the motel room. The pasty-yellow walls were once white. The seats are cheap rexin. Everything is washed in an amber glow of the lamp at the bedside table. The bed is vacant. Cheap green carpet. _

_Green carpet. With dark maroon lines branching out steadily, inching forward, slowly, moving toward her feet. _

_Wait, wait! What?! _

_Desert eyes widen with horror. The maroon patterns are under her feet now, slowly moving under the chair upon which she is sitting. Cold wetness. White socks. Her white socks feel wet from where she had placed them on the floor. _

She is wide awake. This is no dream, she knows she is wide awake!

_She feels sweat gather at her brow. She shuffles her feet. The pattern is a tad deformed now. But the maroon stems are widening with stronger flow. Her throat feels parched, and she feels the tendons on her back and neck stiffen into roped cords ready to snap at any second. _

_Rivers of blood. Under her feet. _

_Fire. Looking up, she realises that everything is on fire. Everything is burning. But.. This isn__'__t the room she rented. No, this is.. some kind of a huge, rocky cavern. She moves towards the opening, and a haunting wailing fills her ears, reverberating to the core of her soul. _

_Ahead of her are black mountains, plains upon plains of muddy-red sands. She steps onto them, and realisation dawns with frightening clarity. _

_Blood._

_The sands are drenched in human blood. So much, that it is pooled upto her ankles as her feet sink onto the ground. _

She is wide awake.

_And then she sees them. In the crimson sky. Shining an ominous green that was as dazzling as it was petrifying. They spread their wings. They shriek to the heavens. _

_The forsaken arise. It is time to take the fall. The screams are deafening her... The ground starts to vibrate.. She can feel herself falling... Falling... Screaming... _

She realized the raspy cry had come from her own throat as soon as her butt makes contact extremely unceremoniously with the floor. But the slight pain is welcome. The haunting sounds echo in her head, but the hum of the radiator slowly registers itself. She feels rivulets of sweat run from her forehead down to the tip of her nose. Her vision finally clears...

The dingy motel, the walls, the damned carpet. Everything is the same.

"That was one, very nasty hallucination," she spoke to herself - wanting, needing to hear her own shaky voice to erase the shrieking that still rang in her ears.

She got up slowly, trembling and somehow stumbled to the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and splashed ice cold water onto her face, trying to wash the horror from her mind. Looking up at her reflection, she nearly did a double take.

Her natural wheatish-complexion was pasty, sickly. Her once soft oval face now all angles and ridges. Dark shadows further contrasting against her gold-brown eyes. But it was the fear, the terror in her own eyes that had her reeling.

When her mind registered the sound of her cellphone vibrating, she nearly jumped out of her skin - before pulling herself together. Must be her alarm for morning prayers.

"Hello. My name is Noor," she whispered to her deathly reflection as she performed the customary ablutions. "Welcome to my darkness."

* * *

><p>It was quite a while as the duo mulled everything over<p>

"The Lux Veritatis - Light of Truth. Same as the Beacon?" Lara was nothing short of amazed at the rich history of Kurtis' order - as opposed to the bland, paltry story of the original Knights Templars.

"Theoretically that's the way it should be. But Reginaldus had another interpretation. He did not lump together the Order and the Beacon as one. He wrote it would be an article - he leaned towards the idea of a book or scripture, or some kind of text. Though the Order, later, thought it was some kind of an artifact, powered through divine force-"

"The Shards? Your frisbee?"

"Possibly, but we cant be sure." He sighed tiredly and combed his hair roughly back with his fingers.

A thick silence fell upon the adventurers.

"This was not how it was all supposed to work out..." Kurtis growled after a long bout of silence. "With Eckhardt dead, the threat should have ended. Simple as that. The Monstrum, the damned Nephilim?!" He clenched his eyes shut and felt a ferocious headache thunder across from temple to temple.

"It's not as if the world hasn't seen its share of power-hungry fools," Lara remarked.

"These aren't fools, Lara.. These are - hell, I don't know _what_ these are!" He felt every bit as cruel as he sounded, before sighing in defeat. "I feel under-prepared, Croft... Deceived... Being trained by the Order to battle this all my life. When in fact what I was really taught was only how to hold my own when I faced Eckhardt and the Cabal. That's it. This..." He was speaking more with his hands. "This is an entirely different deal... The M.O. is different, the style is too wanton, too careless. As they know they will never be caught-"

"Or are too powerful to worry about being caught.." Lara nervously chewed on her lip. She finished his unvoiced confession. "This isn't the Monstrum we're facing now, it's full-fledged, bloody Nephilim. And you were never trained to battle true Nephilim, is that right?"

Kurtis squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The image of the nurse's head being ripped off clean her shoulders played through his mind again. "I wasn't. I don't have all the answers." A muscle twitched in cheek, as he growled out the words he had been too fearful to utter all this time. "Centuries upon centuries of bloodshed, secrecy - all futile. Back to square one again, no leads, no breakthroughs."

He finally opened his eyes after a deep pause, and fixed a determined cerulean glare upon Lara, his internal conviction shining through his eyes like diamonds. "Let me just say this, for the first and last time. Walk away, Croft. This has always been my fight - no matter what you say or think. This isn't one of your raiding missions, a challenge. It's a goddamn war with no chance of survival-"

"I never walk away, Trent. I thought you of all people at least understood that-"

Kurtis was furious. "Damn it, woman! I understand it!" he all but roared - before continuing, exasperated. "I understand it all too well - why else would I waste my breath trying to make you realise-!"

"Then waste it elsewhere, Trent. I am not backing down," Lara returned hotly.

But Kurtis met her fiery gaze with one of his own, and continued without even listening to her words, his tone low, dangerous - and morose. "It will kill me, Lara." His voice was so strong, so unwavering, he could have been talking about his life's ambitions - if he had any.

Even when Lara opened her mouth to protest, he did not stop.

"And it will kill you, too. But now, it's time, and this has to end; and I'd rather it goddamn ends with me than with you. There you have it! The truth."

Lara took in his steely resolve, his suicide wish, his unspoken words of protection for her. But she had been too stubborn, too independent and had gambled with enormous stakes for far too long.

Kurtis made it seem like a fight for survival. She was good at surviving. What she was bad at, was losing people close to her - something she was more than willing to remedy.

Despite her nausea, the cold surroundings of her jet, the icy black night outside, she felt a ray of hope pierce within the darkness of her soul like a burst of sunshine. For a second, she was back in Egypt, but this time, healing under the shaman's scant holdings, feeling her body and mind mend themselves.

She wanted to revel in the warmth of optimism for a small while, maybe even share it with Kurtis, before reality choked it off completely.

"It will end, it always does. But not at the cost of our lives, that I promise you."

Kurtis stared her down, but apart from annoyance, his eyes reflected another emotion that both he and Lara were too confused to name.

"We're ready to land, Lady Croft, Mr Trent. Please fasten your seatbelts, and hold on tight!" came the pilot's command through the speaker. The duo complied and within moments, felt the air craft descend.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Trent."

* * *

><p>Okaayyy.. So finally done with this! Out of the past few chapters, I believe I'm most satisfied with this one - finally the plot seems to be taking shape and many of the questions have now been answered..<p>

So firstly - we know who our mystery gal is.. This Noor- character.. Frankly, I have used my best friend's name for this (I once asked her its meaning, and was so intrigued and inspired, I've decided to use it here!) .. And this lady may be an unfamiliar OC, but believe me she is vital to the plot. And the whole LC, KT scenario ... Let's just leave it at that :D

It has been medically proven that lack of sleep can lead to severe hallucinations. I tried my best to create a scary hallucination, do let me know how it went :)

Now being a psychology student, I tend to focus on feelings and emotions and craziness in general because frankly, I believe Lara and even Kurtis must have their own psychological problems that they deal with somehow.. This psychological element, I believe adds a lot to the character..

So having said that - Anyone who reads, please, pleeeeeeeeese do let me know how this chapter went, especially in terms of characterisations.. See you all next time! :)


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